


Gamma Draconis

by Phoenixstrike



Series: Expecting the Unexpected [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Expecting the Unexpected, Impotence, M/M, Sequel, Sexual Dysfunction, Slash sex, Teenagers, anorgasmic, past mentions of Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixstrike/pseuds/Phoenixstrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HP/DM slash, sequel to 'Expecting the Unexpected'. It's fourteen years since the birth of Lily Eltanin. She's now at Hogwarts nursing a woefully inappropriate crush on a certain Gryffindor boy, Harry and Draco are having problems in the bedroom, and whilst his secretary's attention is flattering, Harry simply isn't interested. DH compliant/ EWE. Mentions of past Mpreg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lily Eltanin Turns Fourteen

**Author's Note:**

> __  
> _Harry Potter and all its indicia are © JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. I own none of the copyright, and this fanfiction makes no money._  
>   
> 
> __
> 
>  
> 
> **Pairing:** Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Ginny/Neville
> 
> **Warnings:** References to past Mpreg. Sexual dysfunction. Teenage hormones.  
>  **A/N:** This is the sequel to 'Expecting the Unexpected' and will make no sense if you haven't read that one first. Whilst 'Expecting' was set during Harry's eighth year, this is set in the present, meaning Harry and Draco are in their 30s, and Lily is fourteen. It won't be as long as 'Expecting', although I'm not sure of the total number of chapters yet.
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _"Gamma Draconis, also known by the name Eltanin, is, despite its gamma status, the brightest star in the constellation Draco. In about 1.5 million years time, it will be the brightest star visible in the night sky, overtaking Sirius."_  
>   
> 
> ____I hope you enjoy the story xx

Gamma Draconis 

[ ](http://s378.photobucket.com/user/sophiesmummy2008/media/lilydoll_zps6820670e.jpg.html)   


Thursday 4th April 2013

_Dear Dad,_

_Please send thirty Galleons by return owl. It’s Hogsmeade weekend on Saturday and I want to buy my Teddy Bear a present for his birthday._

_I love you,_

_Lily._

*

_Thursday 4th April 2013_

_Dear Lily,_

_You were given a hundred- yes, a hundred- Galleons at the start of term. That was to be your Hogsmeade money plus all extras- for the entire school year. What on earth have you spent a hundred Galleons on? No, I will not be sending you any money. Especially not for Teddy’s birthday present. I’ll add your name to the gift your father and I are giving him._

_Love always,_

_Dad._ __

*

_Friday 5th April 2013_

_Dear Father,_

_I need some new school supplies. But can you send the money rather than the equipment, so I can choose my own when I’m in Hogsmeade tomorrow? About thirty Galleons should be enough. I needed new robes a few weeks ago, which is why I’ve already used up the money you gave me in September._

_I love you,_

_Lily._

*

_Friday 5th April 2013_

_Lily,_

_Do you think we’re stupid?_

_You may be a Slytherin, my darling, but that was neither subtle nor cunning. It was Gryffindor-ish in its optimism and Hufflepuff-esque in its execution. A shameful attempt._

_You’ll be giving Teddy Lupin a new set of Quidditch gear for his birthday, along with your dad and me._

_Love,_

_Father._ __

*

_Friday 5th April 2013_

_Dear Father,_

_When Lily writes to you asking for money, ignore her. She’s already tried to con Harry and me out of Galleons without success. I implore you not to give in to her- a concept I know you find difficult._

_Draco._

*

Lily Eltanin Potter-Malfoy was, to put it bluntly, a handful. With her long, flowing, white-blonde hair, bright green eyes and spectacles, she looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but her fathers knew differently. At almost fourteen years old, she was beautiful, intelligent, a Slytherin in almost every way, and obsessed with boys. Well, that wasn’t technically true. She was obsessed with one particular boy. A boy in the year above her, Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and who also happened to be her dad’s fifteen-year-old godson. 

Harry and Draco had tried everything they could think of to distract Lily from her crush. Having their daughter falling for Teddy Lupin, when the boy was like a son to Harry (not to mention the fact that he and Lily were second cousins), was incredibly awkward. Particularly so when Lily came home from school in tears just last Christmas and said Teddy had been snogging Victoire, Bill and Fleur’s eldest child (who was in the same year as Lily), on the Hogwarts Express ride home, which had led to a very tense atmosphere between the two girls on Christmas Day at The Burrow, and meant Harry and Draco had made an earlier than planned exit with Lily, and headed for Malfoy Manor to have tea with Lucius and Narcissa. 

She hadn’t always been a handful. It was when she’d hit her teenage years that she’d turned from their sweet, if slightly demanding, daughter into this sullen, moody, cantankerous being. It was almost, Harry thought wryly, as if she went to bed on the eve of her thirteenth birthday perfectly lovely, and awoke the following morning an uncooperative and overly-emotional bag of stroppiness. She’d always had Harry’s stubborn streak and Draco’s vanity; add to that a healthy dose of teenage hormones, and Lily Potter- Malfoy was a force to be reckoned with. There was no denying that the house was quieter, calmer and far more relaxed when Lily was away at Hogwarts. And Harry and Draco hated it. They and missed their (in their eyes, at least) baby girl and her melodramas every single day.

It hadn’t always been easy raising a girl; despite the fact she was the centre of Harry and Draco’s world, at times the lack of a permanent female presence in the house had been greatly felt- more so as Lily hit puberty. They had left topics such as periods to Hermione to explain; neither of them feeling confident nor qualified to give their daughter that particular talk, despite the fact that Harry himself had carried Lily for nearly nine months. And it had been Hermione who had taken her shopping for her first bra. And for the most part, this worked perfectly well. Hermione adored her goddaughter, and Lily adored her. The two were incredibly close, as were Lily and Hermione’s eight-year-old daughter, Rose. There had been several times, however, over the years when Harry had wished Lily did have a mum in the house. Having to explain to her what a clitoris was when she had arrived home for the summer after her first year at Hogwarts and asked him had been a particularly traumatic experience for Harry, and was one which Ron still teased him about, two years on. But for the most part, Harry and Draco could look back over the last fourteen years and feel immensely proud of themselves. They’d done a brilliant job as fathers, and Lily certainly hadn’t missed out by not having a mother. 

Harry and Draco awoke on the morning of the second of May feeling excited. Unlike most wizarding parents whose children had their birthday during term-time, they always got to spend the day with their daughter. And not because Harry was the Man Who Lived and was therefore given special privileges, but simply because their daughter’s birthday coincided with the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts; the day was always marked with a ceremony in the school grounds where Harry was coaxed into giving a speech, which allowed Lily to spend time with her parents afterwards.

They dressed, grabbed Lily’s birthday presents, and Apparated to Hogsmeade, choosing to take the small walk through the village they used to call home. 

Being in Hogsmeade brought back some wonderful memories for Harry of his and Draco’s first home together. They’d moved away from the all-wizarding village, and the cottage Harry had loved, when Lily was two; blindingly obvious as it was once Lily became a toddler that Draco was, indeed, her other biological parent (given the strong resemblance), the press had pestered them constantly. They’d moved to Petersfield near Andromeda and Teddy, and for the most part they enjoyed an anonymous existence amongst the Muggles in the quiet Hampshire town, un-hounded by wizarding reporters who would be in serious breach of the Statute of Secrecy if they were to follow the small family around in such a Muggle area. But Harry and Draco had been very happy in their cottage, and Harry had found it extremely hard to say goodbye. 

Harry absentmindedly twisted the emerald set signet ring- bought for him by Draco for Christmas when Harry was still pregnant, and now had Lily’s name engraved upon it- with his thumb, as he so often did when he thought of his daughter. The ring hadn’t left his finger in fourteen years. He grinned as he took in the familiar sights of Hogsmeade, grabbed Draco’s hand in his, and the pair set off towards Hogwarts. 

*

The service was as it was every year. Kingsley was still the Minister for Magic, and he stood, as he did every May 2nd, on a podium and read out the long list of the deceased. It was true that the service no longer carried the harrowing sorrow that the first couple of anniversaries had- time is a great healer, after all- but the occasion was still a sombre one.

After Harry had delivered his carefully crafted speech (written by Hermione, of course), the event was brought to a close, Harry shook hands with a seemingly never- ending line of people wishing to say thank you, before saying a quick goodbye to the Weasleys and heading off towards the castle with Draco, eager to see his daughter.

It didn't take them long to spot her. She was sat on the floor by the entrance, legs curled under her, and reading from a Muggle paperback novel that seemed to have a picture of a knotted grey tie on the over- an odd picture for a cover of a book aimed at a teenager, Harry thought. He couldn't quite pick out the title, but thought he could see the word 'Grey'. Lily noticed her parents coming, her cheeks flushed slightly and her eyes widened, and she hastily threw the book into her bag, instantly rousing Harry's Head Auror suspicions. He made a mental note to investigate the book title on the Muggle internet he'd insisted on having installed as soon as he and Draco were home. He shared a quick glance with Draco, and noticed that it had not escaped his attention, either.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," he said, as Lily stood and threw herself into both his and Draco's arms.

"Thanks, dad," she replied.

"Happy fourteenth, Lily Bud," Draco said, smile huge, and handed over the bag of presents he'd been carrying. Lily squealed.

"Let's go to the lake. I'm starving and I wanna open these!" she said excitedly.

They reached the lake, which was now mercifully devoid of people who had gathered for the memorial, and Harry conjured a large, soft picnic blanket. They all sat, and Lily began tearing into the wrapping paper, making noises of delight as she uncovered her gifts.

"Thank you, both of you, I love them all," she said, Vanishing the wrapping paper with her wand (much to Harry's proud surprise- he certainly couldn't do that when he was in third year) and giving Harry and Draco kisses on the cheeks.

After they devoured the picnic that the Hogwarts house-elves had graciously served them, Harry lay with his head in Draco's lap whilst Lily made an uprooted daffodil dance what appeared to be the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from the _Nutcracker,_ just for the sheer enjoyment of it. Lily's wand was ten inches long and crafted from aspen and phoenix feather- a fine wand for duelling, Ollivander had said when they bought it nearly three years' previously. Harry had laughed when Ollivander explained that it was those of strong mind and determination who tended to be chosen by aspen wands. He'd described their daughter exactly.

"Didn't he, Dad?" Lily said, nudging Harry in the stomach and jolting him back to the present.

"Er, what?" he replied, having not heard a word. Lily rolled her eyes dramatically. "Teddy! God, Dad, don't you ever pay attention?"

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, and Draco began to laugh.

"I was just saying. Teddy broke the Gryffindor record for the most Bludger hits in a single season last year," Lily said. Harry had to physically stop himself from rolling his own eyes, just as his daughter had done less than a minute ago. He looked at his watch. It had taken just under an hour for the topic of conversation to get round to his godson. He sighed, resigned.

"Um, yeah. Yes, Lils, he did."

Lily continued to talk about Teddy for the next half an hour, whilst Harry and Draco made non-committal 'hmm' noises and nodded their heads in roughly the right places. They sat out by the lake until the early May sunlight began to fail.

"You'd better get back, Lily Bud," Draco said reluctantly. "Lessons tomorrow." He hugged Lily tightly to him, then Harry did the same once they'd pulled apart. They walked Lily back up to the castle, made her promise to write soon (and not just to beg for money), hugged her again, and then turned to leave. Harry felt, as he always did after having to leave her at school, a mini bereavement, like a part of him was missing. He turned his attention to the Quidditch pitch where the Gryffindor team had just started their practice. Harry considered calling Teddy over, but didn't want to interrupt. Instead he watched proudly for a couple of minutes, idly thinking he'd come up to Hogwarts for the last Slytherin game of the season to watch Lily Seek, before heading across the grounds with Draco and Apparating home.

"It's only seven weeks until the end of term," Draco said, obviously reassuring himself as much as Harry, as soon as they were back in their house. Harry nodded weakly, forcing out a small smile. Desperate for a distraction- just something with which to occupy himself for a few minutes- he decided to try and find out what book Lily was reading. He grabbed his laptop, fired it up, and tapped 'grey tie book cover' into Google. A quick image search brought up the title he was looking for (yes, he thought, Muggles definitely did some things way better than wizards, and research was one of those things), and he read its Wikipedia entry. He felt his mouth drop open, indicated the article to Draco- who gave a whimper of distress when he read it- and immediately penned a letter to McGonagall, pointing out what exactly the third year Slytherin girls had managed to get hold of to read, and maybe she'd like to intervene. He called over Tinky Winky (and wasn't _that_ a mistake, letting a three-year-old Lily name his owl?), attached the scroll of parchment to his leg, and sent him off into the pink and gold sunset.

"I cannot believe our little girl was reading that," Draco said eventually. "She's only fucking fourteen."

"As long as she's only reading, not _doing_ ," Harry replied, then pulled a face. "Actually, scrap that. I don't want her reading it either."

"Fancy an early night?" Draco asked, and it was clear from the smirk on his face that it wasn't sleep on his mind. Harry's stomach felt unpleasantly like he'd swallowed Neville's old toad alive. He fixed a grin on his face, remembering the last time they'd had sex. _Please don't let 'it' happen again,_ he thought to himself, as he heard his voice say, "Sure, why not?"

If only everything was as easily solved as writing a quick letter. But, as Harry followed Draco out of their living room to their bedroom, he had a slight inkling that a sheet of parchment and a Self-Inking Quill weren't going to help him with this particular problem.

*

“Fuck, yes,” Harry heard Draco gasp from behind him, as the hand that was holding his hip firmly snaked around and gripped Harry’s semi- erection tightly, his lips fastening to the juncture of Harry’s neck and shoulders that was always so sensitive. He thrust into Harry’s body in strong, rhythmic strokes, his chest, slick from perspiration, gliding easily against Harry’s back. He was clearly very aroused indeed. Harry screwed his eyes tightly and bit his lip, wishing he was too. He focussed his energy on making the noises that he knew Draco would want to hear, throwing in a few, “God, there, yes” vocalisations for good measure, and willed himself not to cry. For the truth was, he couldn’t wait for Draco to hurry up and come so it would be over. 

It wasn’t like last time at all. 

It was worse.

Last time he’d at least managed to get properly hard, and he’d felt aroused. He was just unable to finish. This time, however- Merlin, how Draco hadn’t noticed that Harry was barely even erect was beyond him. Harry screwed his fist into a tight ball as he listened to Draco’s breathing becoming shallower and faster. Nearly over then, Harry thought, his eyes stinging. With a final hard thrust, and a rushed exhalation of breath, Draco buried his face into Harry’s neck and came. 

Harry could feel Draco’s slightly trembling body, his pounding heart against his back, as he listened to the harsh breathing begin to normalise once more. Draco gently pulled out of Harry, rolled him from his side onto his back, and Harry had a split second to notice that Draco looked flushed and dishevelled, before his mouth was firmly on Harry’s, and Harry was kissing him back, and maybe it would be OK, because Harry knew he loved Draco with all his heart. 

“You didn’t come,” Draco said gently, once the kiss ended. Harry was sure he didn’t imagine the tinge of worry to his voice. “Let’s rectify that, shall we?” And before Harry could say anything at all, Draco kissed a trail down Harry’s stomach and took his slightly engorged cock into his mouth…

…Which triggered one of the worst things ever. Harry’s lacklustre erection, such as it was, finally died a death. He could literally feel it disintegrating, as if shying away from Draco’s mouth. Draco froze, before pulling away from Harry’s now extremely uninterested member. He looked up at Harry, his eyes full of pain. 

“Harry…” he began, but clearly didn’t know how to finish his sentence. Harry put his face in his hands. 

“Please, Draco, can we not talk about this? It’s been a busy day, what with Lily’s birthday, and the memorial and everything. I’m just tired, OK?” he said. Draco bit his bottom lip, obviously toying with whether to say anything anyway. 

“And Sunday you said it was down to being stressed out at work over the Wyatt case,” he replied finally. His voice was calm, but Harry wasn’t fooled for a second. “Look, Harry, I’m sure I can make a potion to help. When I’m back at St Mungo’s tomorrow, I’ll look in _Medical Potions_ for you. Something with ginseng or yohimbe bark, maybe.”

“I don’t _need_ a potion. This has only happened twice,” Harry said sharply. He wasn’t going to mention he’d also failed to bring himself off in the shower the previous morning. “What I need is for you not to nag me about this, OK? Don’t make a big deal out of it. Besides, _you_ came. It’s not like this is your problem, is it?”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Draco snapped. “For you to even say that… I just… how can you even think… oh fuck you,” he repeated. He looked very upset, and a wave of guilt crashed over Harry. He knew he was being completely unfair, but he was mortified, and more than a little worried, and he really didn’t want to have this conversation tonight. 

“Goodnight, Draco,” he said, forcing his voice to sound as normal as possible, but making it clear that the conversation was over. Then, because he really wasn’t a total bastard, and because it was the utter truth, added, “I love you.” He grabbed his wand off the nightstand and flicked it at the lights. 

“I love you, too,” Draco’s sad and confused voice came from the darkness.

Eventually, Draco’s breathing evened out and he gave a couple of gentle snores, but harry was still fully awake, staring blindly into the darkness. He had no idea what was going on. He still loved Draco- of that he was absolutely certain. He still desired him, still found him delectable, even after fourteen and a half years together. And he still craved sex. 

He also doubted there was a physiological reason he couldn’t er, perform. He woke up every day with a proud case of morning wood. It was just his physical response to sex- or, to be specific- the lack of- that was causing his issues. He just didn’t understand it. He was a healthy man of thirty-two, wasn’t under any undue stress at the moment, and still found his partner attractive. So what the fuck was the problem?

Harry blinked back angry tears of frustration, and forced himself to lay still and quiet, listening to the calming sound of Draco’s breathing. They’d get through this. It was just a blip, something temporary that would be overcome. Harry wished he could make himself believe that. It was a long time until sleep claimed him.


	2. Strained Relations

_Friday 3rd May 2013_

_Dear Dad,_

_Oh my god, your so embarrassing! I felt so stupid having to empty my bag onto McGonagall’s desk! If you wanted to make me look like a total idiot, then congrats, Dad, you achieved it. And you got Naomi into heaps of trouble- her mum sent a Howler and everything._

_It was only a book. I know you and Father think I’m still a child, but I’m not. I know all about sex and stuff. And now everyone thinks I’m retarded or something. Naomi said your old-fashioned and that your ‘helicopter parents’. You have to let me be my own person, she said. What’s the point in my having wings if you do not let me fly?_

_Thanks a lot._

_Lily._

*

_Saturday 4th May 2013_

_Lily,_

_It’s ‘you’re’, not ‘your’. It’s short for you are. As in, ‘you are overreacting, just a smidgen’. If you spent more time on your studies and less on pornographic literature then you would know this. Three times in one letter you made this very basic error. I could also do without your theatrical metaphors, thank you very much. Nor do I need parenting advice from Naomi Churcher._

_I’m really not in the mood to discuss over owl post the (numerous) reasons why your dad and I disapprove of you reading BDSM fiction. He’s gone to work this morning- in an even worse mood than he was already in, thanks to you I might add- hence why I’m replying to your letter._

_You had better not know ‘all’ about sex, young lady, otherwise you are in some serious trouble when you come home for summer._

_Keep a civil tongue in your head when you write to either of us again._

_Love always,_

_Father._ __

*

Harry arrived in the Atrium of the Ministry and immediately headed for the lifts. He was in a foul mood, and this must have shown on his face, for not one single person even attempted to wish him a good morning. He got into the lift and pressed the button for the second level. If it wasn’t bad enough that he had to work at the weekend, he’d also tried a spot of experimental wanking in the shower again and couldn’t so much as raise a smile, let alone anything else (much to his continued horror), and then he’d received the snarky letter from Lily. He’d only just resisted the urge to follow Mrs Churcher’s example and send his irritable and defiant daughter a Howler, opting to leave Draco to deal with the reply instead. He stood stiffly in the lift, wand out in his tightly clenched fist, and couldn’t have radiated _Leave me the fuck alone_ vibes any clearer if he had the words tattooed across his forehead in fluorescent ink. 

“Good morning, Head Auror Potter,” his secretary called to him from behind her desk, as he stormed towards his office. “My, you look dreadful this morning. Can I get you some coffee?”

“Actually, that sounds wonderful. Thank you,” Harry said, giving the woman a small smile as she handed him a hot cup of freshly brewed filter coffee- black, with one lump of Demerara sugar: exactly as he liked it. He inhaled the deep, almost bitter aroma and felt calm for the first time all morning. “Perfect. Thank you, Isabelle.” 

The woman beamed, transforming her stern, mousy appearance, as her features softened.

“Anything for you, Head Auror Potter,” she said quietly, winking at him. “You know I’d do _anything_ for you.” She reached out a hand and stroked him on the arm.

“Er, thanks,” Harry said, taking an involuntary step away, before turning and dashing into his office. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t flattered by his secretary’s attention. Who isn’t flattered when someone finds them attractive? It was just flirting in general made him uncomfortable. And it’s not as if he found her attractive, or wanted to flirt back in return- she had to be at least forty-five, her dark brunette fair was flecked with grey and pulled into a tight bun, and she was wearing a buttoned-up brown Cashmere cardigan and full-length black skirt (from the bottom of which an inch of hairy ankle was just visible), despite the fact it was May. At least Isabelle knew it was all just good-natured fun, Harry thought with relief. She was fully aware Harry was a hundred percent committed to Draco.

Draco. 

Distracted by thoughts of his partner for the moment, Harry took a huge gulp of the far-too-hot coffee, swore loudly as it burnt his mouth and throat, and hastily cast _Aguamenti_ into an empty glass on his desk, before taking a large drink of cold, soothing water. He sighed. Things had been strained between them the day before, with Draco looking hurt and confused, and Harry stubbornly refusing to talk about it, beyond telling Draco he loved him and still found him attractive. He hated being the one who made Draco feel that way. Fine, he thought to himself. If Draco wanted to feed him strange concoctions that bordered on voodoo, then let him. It couldn’t hurt. He glumly pulled the huge pile of paperwork towards him- the reason he had to work on a Saturday (that, and he took Thursday off for the memorial), grabbed a quill, and began to work. 

Thank Merlin he and Draco were going out with their friends that evening. Otherwise the day would have been completely shit. 

*

“Well, to be honest, Harry, Lily’s _not_ a little girl anymore,” Hermione said, looking supremely unconcerned at the glare both he and Draco shot her. “Goodness- when you were her age, you’d already saved the Philosopher’s Stone from Voldemort, fought and killed a basilisk, rescued Sirius after battling about a hundred Dementors single-handedly, and were preparing to start your fourth year where you’d compete in the Triwizard Tournament- which, I may add, you won. Oh, and there’s the small issue of the fact you duelled and beat Voldemort, and resisted his Imperius Curse. Aged the same age Lily is now.”

“I still don’t want her reading porn,” Harry shot back, ignoring Hermione’s other points completely. “She’s only fourteen. Would you be happy if Rose was reading it in six years’ time?”

“No, maybe not,” Hermione conceded, whilst Ron’s face acquired a look of abject horror. He was clearly as comfortable with his ‘little girl’ growing up as Draco and Harry were. “But she does have to grow up at some point, you know.”

“This is why I like only having boys,” Ginny said, and Neville nodded in agreement. “Boys don’t _want_ to grow up. The twins are ten and like nothing more than to run around in the garden in just their pants and a tea towel round their necks, pretending they’re Superman.”

“Give them three years,” Draco said with a smirk, “and they’ll be trying to get their hands on as many copies of _Playwizard_ as they can.”

“Oh, you _men_ and your misogynistic double standards!” shouted Hermione, and Harry had to admit he was impressed that Hermione could pronounce that so clearly after four glasses of Merlot. “Will you listen to yourselves? It’s OK for Hugo, or Frank and Jack to read porn, but not Lily or Rose? Honestly!”

“How is not wanting my daughter reading fiction where a woman is completely controlled and dominated by a man mosigyn- misig- sexist?” Harry said, wondering how many vodkas he’d had by now.

“Game of pool, Draco?” Neville asked hurriedly, before Hermione could go into full rant mode. Draco nodded gratefully and he and Neville disappeared quickly to the vacant table. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a look, not unnoticed by Harry.

“And I need a nicotine hit,” Ginny said. “Just popping outside for a sec.”

“I’ll come with you!” Hermione said, and Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Hermione detested smoking, and never accompanied Ginny outside on her cigarette breaks when they went out. He turned to Ron, who was drinking from his pint of Old Speckled Hen. 

“Why has everyone so obviously left, leaving you alone with me?” Harry asked, a pinch sharper than he’d intended. 

“Harry,” Ron began, and his tone was serious, “is there something wrong between you and Malfoy?” 

Despite the bluntness of the question, and the discomfort that Harry felt that he and Draco were so tense with each other that his friends had picked up on it, he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Ron and Draco were perfectly civil towards one another- friends, even, yet insisted on calling each other ‘Weasley and Malfoy’ still, like a couple of fifteen-year-old schoolchildren. Draco addressed all his other friends by their given names, and they called him by his. Harry didn’t understand what issue there was remaining between his partner and his best friend.

“Um, why do you say that?” he asked, not quite meeting Ron’s eyes. 

“Mate, you’ve barely spoken to each other in two hours, you’ve sat next to each other the entire time and not touched- which, trust me, is unusual for you two- and you both look… I don’t know. Sad, I s’pose.”

Maybe it was because of the vodka, maybe it was because this was Ron he was talking to, and Ron had been his best friend for over twenty years, or maybe it was simply because he really fucking needed to talk about it, but suddenly Harry sighed, ran his hands over his face, and let everything spill out. He talked for over ten minutes, noticing as he did so that Ginny and Hermione were back and had deliberately sat themselves at the bar, giving him and Ron some much-needed time to talk alone. Affection for all his friends flooded him.

“And now I’m pretty sure Draco thinks I don’t want him,” Harry said finally. “Which isn’t it at all. I just- I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“And you’ve told _him_ all this, of course?” Ron asked pointedly. 

“Yes!” Harry replied. “Er, sort of.” Ron covered his eyes with his hand and let out a small groan of frustration that sounded like ‘ _Bloody hell, Harry_ ’ at that, and Harry ignored him. “But I’m not certain he believes me. He probably thinks this is down to me not fancying him anymore or something. He’s always had an issue with the fact I’m not ‘truly gay’- his words, by the way. He doesn’t like the fact I find women attractive too- I think he sees it as some sort of threat. Remember when Lily was five and he freaked out that time, thinking I was going to leave him for some woman so I could have more kids?” Ron pulled a face.

“Ah yeah, I’d forgotten that.” He took another swig from his pint and popped a pork scratching into his mouth, crunching noisily. He offered the bad to Harry, who refused. There was just something about deep fried pig skin covered in salt that didn’t say appetising to him. He liked his arteries clear, thank you. “But you’ve told him everything- including the fact you can’t-” Ron looked around to make sure they weren’t being overheard, and Harry vaguely thought he should have done this before he started pouring his heart out- “you can’t _get it up_ even when you’re, you know, bashing the bishop?”

“Um,” Harry replied, because, no, he hadn’t told Draco that at all. It was far too embarrassing. “I will do.” Ron let out a noise of exasperation. 

“You’re impossible, Harry,” he said. “Look, I may not be the world’s leading expert on relationships, but you don’t survive ten years of marriage to Hermione without learning a thing or two. You need to talk to him- _properly_ this time- and be completely open with him, OK?” Harry opened his mouth to reply, but quickly shut it again when Neville and Draco returned to the table, a tray of drinks in tow.

“Bloody Muggle pub,” Draco said quietly. “It would be much easier to just be able to levitate these. Look, I’ve spilt Weasley’s pint.” He sat down next to Harry automatically and Harry, Ron’s earlier words about them not touching still fresh in his mind, reached out and took Draco’s hand firmly in his, squeezing it tightly. Draco looked at their joined hands and a small smile tinged his lips. 

“So, who won the pool game then?” Ron asked. 

“Draco, of course. Two-nil. I swear he cheats,” Neville said, good-naturedly. “I’ve never seen a Muggle play and be able to angle the ball like he does.”

“It’s called _skill_ , Neville,” Draco smirked, handing Harry a vodka and Coke and taking a sip of his own. “I’m just a fantastically natural pool player, that’s all.”

“Did you cheat?” Harry asked quietly so only Draco could hear, and a flush that had nothing to do with Draco’s eighth shot of vodka crept up his cheeks. 

“A little,” he admitted. Harry laughed. 

“My Slytherin,” he said, and kissed Draco on the cheek. Draco’s hand gripped Harry’s even firmer at the kiss, and his face broke into the first true smile it had worn in two days. 

“I love you,” he said. 

“Love you too. I really, honestly do,” Harry replied, looking Draco straight in the eyes, willing him to believe the words. 

“You look happier, you two,” Ginny said, approaching the table and swigging from a bottle of violently blue alcopop, and Hermione elbowed her sloppily, making loud ‘Shhh!’ noises. Both women were clearly beyond tipsy now. 

“Yeah. Thanks, guys,” Harry said. He downed the rest of his drink and smiled. His talk with Ron had made him feel better about things. And, regardless of how humiliating he felt, Harry was going to talk with Draco. He deserved the truth. 

*

Harry and his friends stumbled out of the pub at eleven- not one of them able to stand independently without swaying. Including Hermione, which was very unusual for her. 

“Anyone else fancy a curry?” Ron asked them all hopefully. 

“Sure,” Ginny replied, whilst Neville made a noise of appreciation at the idea. “Might as well make the most of it whilst Mum as the kids, hadn’t we?”

“Excellent,” slurred Ron. “Harry? Malfoy? You two coming?”

“No thanks,” Harry replied. “Been a long day.”

“You sure? Chicken vindaloo is just what’s needed after alcohol,” Ron said.

“You will not order that again,” Hermione said. “The bathroom smelt for two days last time you had one of those. Goodness knows what damage it causes to the intestines.”

Harry laughed. “Thanks, Ron, but I’m not hungry.” 

“Suit yourself,” Ron said, slightly petulantly. “See you soon.”

“Bye, Harry, Draco,” Hermione said, clearly drunk as she planted a huge kiss on Draco’s cheek. “Take care!”

Once all his friends had set off towards the Star of Bengal, which was about a quarter of a mile from the pub, Draco reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two small phials of Sobriety Potion. 

“Can’t have the Head Auror illegally and dangerously Apparating whilst pissed,” he said with a grin. They both downed their potions, and Harry closed his eyes as the ice-cold sensation washed over him. When he opened his eyes again he didn’t feel as if he’d even had an alcoholic drink at all that evening, let alone nine. 

“Thanks,” he said. “Home?”

They both checked for watching Muggles and, finding themselves completely alone on the street, turned on the spot and Disapparated, arriving in the small downstairs dining room of their house that they used as their Apparition point. 

As soon as Harry had regained his balance, he pulled Draco towards him and crushed his mouth to Draco’s. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been a bastard,” he said when the kiss had ended. “I’ve felt so pathetic and useless that I took it out on you, and didn’t even give much thought to how it must make you feel. I just thought about how this was affecting me. I’m really sorry. And if you want me to try this yibbie root, or whatever it’s called, then OK.”

“Yohimbe bark,” Draco corrected, but he was smiling. “Are you sure?”

“What’s the point on being in a relationship with St Mungo’s leading Potions researcher if I can’t claim a little of the knowledge for myself?” Harry said. “But first I owe you a huge explanation.”

He took Draco by the hand and led him into their living room, and, for the second time that evening, talked as candidly as he perhaps ever had. Including the parts about the wanking. By the end, Harry was sure he was as scarlet as any Gryffindor banner. 

“So you see, Draco, it’s really not because I don’t fancy you,” Harry reassured. “I do, you know. So much. It’s just that Little Harry has a small problem at the moment. My feelings for you are as strong as they always were.”

“This is only temporary,” Draco said, with conviction. “We’ll overcome this, OK?”

“OK,” Harry said, and curled into Draco’s inviting arms. He closed his eyes and hummed happily when he felt Draco’s fingers in his hair. 

“I just wish you could talk to me without Weasley telling you to,” Draco said quietly. Harry looked up. “He did, didn’t he? And he knew all this before me.” Harry noticed that Draco tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but it was definitely there. Harry felt like a complete git.

“If it hadn’t been for the vodka, I probably wouldn’t have even talked to him,” Harry replied. “But I’m sorry. I promise to talk to you- properly- first in future.” He reached for Draco’s hand, which was resting on his shoulder, and began to pepper open-mouthed kisses along the palm, then onto his wrist, before giving it a playful swipe with his tongue; just the way he knew Draco liked it. And, as he knew he would, Harry heard Draco catch his breath. 

Suddenly, the need to reassure Draco with more than just words overcame him. His own lack of libido be damned, Harry wasn’t about to make Draco suffer any more than he was already. He continued his kisses up Draco’s arm, all the way to his shoulders, and then placed his lips firmly on Draco’s neck.

“What are you doing?” he heard Draco gasp, and he smiled against Draco’s skin.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Harry replied, and gently bit Draco’s earlobe. He snaked a hand down Draco’s torso and grabbed his crotch, which had definitely begun to take an interest in Harry’s actions. 

“But- you-” said Draco, and Harry silenced him with a kiss. 

“Please, Draco. Please let me do this for you,” he said, suddenly desperate to prove that he did, indeed, still want his lover. To prove to himself that things were going to be okay between them. He slid off the sofa and positioned himself between Draco’s legs. 

“I love you,” he said, and began unfastening the fly of Draco’s Muggle jeans. He forced down the surge of jealousy that threatened to flood through him as he freed Draco’s erection. It was thick, heavy, and very, very hard, the polar opposite of Harry’s, which was still very much comatose. This wasn’t about him. This was about reassuring his wounded lover. He took Draco into his hands, and gave a few confident, assuring strokes. Draco let out a soft, almost tortured moan.

“You don’t have to,” he rasped, his body betraying his words as he thrust forwards, clearly desperate for more contact. 

“Draco, shut up,” Harry said. Then he leant forwards and took Draco into his mouth. 

“Oh god, Harry,” Draco moaned. Encouraged, Harry forced his throat to relax and took Draco in further, using his tongue to provide extra stimulation. He knew Draco was close, and swallowed around his erection, causing his lover to shudder in delight.

“So good, close,” Draco said, his hands automatically buried in Harry’s hair and pulling almost to the point of pain, “I just… oh, _fuck!_ ” 

That was the only warning Harry got before Draco came. Harry looked up into Draco’s beautiful flushed face and took everything Draco gave him, savouring it as the affirmation he hoped it was that they’d be OK. He waited until Draco had calmed slightly and pulled away, before leaning up and kissing Draco deeply. 

“Anything?” Draco asked hopefully when the kiss ended. Harry shook his head, and Draco looked crestfallen. “Maybe if I just-”

“Please,” Harry said. “Don’t. You have no idea who much I wish you could.”

They made their way up to bed. Harry decided to jump in the shower quickly- both because he really was hot and sweaty after a night in the pub, and he also felt utterly frustrated, and wanted to see if anything could be done about that without the added pressure of not hurting Draco’s feelings if (when) it didn’t work. He soaped his skin and hair quickly, rinsed, and then took himself in his hand. Nothing. He screwed his eyes shut and thought about Draco- his cock, the noises he’d just made on their sofa as Harry sucked him, Draco’s face as he’d come. He thought about the time when Lily had just started Hogwarts and he and Draco went away for the weekend to try and distract themselves from missing her. They’d ended up getting thoroughly pissed in a local Muggle gay pub and shagged underneath Brighton Pier, in the middle of a late summer thunderstorm. They were both soaked to the skin, Harry ended up with a gash on his arse due to a sharp stone, and they were chilled to the bone, but it was still one of his happiest ever memories. He remembered arching into Draco’s thrusts and coming just as a huge bolt of lightning forked towards the ground and disappeared. Poetry in motion. 

He released his listless cock from his hands and bit his bottom lip hard, closing his eyes and refusing to cry. It had only been a week. OK, so he’d taken much longer than usual to come for a few days before that too, but he’d got there in the end. Draco was one of the best Potions brewers in the United Kingdom; if anyone could come up with something to help him, it was Draco. They’d be fine. 

Harry hurriedly shut off the water, stepped out of the shower, and towelled himself roughly. He stepped into his and Draco’s bedroom, where Draco was sat up in bed reading from a Potions text by the light of his wand. He smiled when he saw Harry and put the book on his bedside table.

“Any luck?” he asked pointedly. Harry just shook his head sadly, not even having the energy for embarrassment. He threw the wet towel into the washing basket, grabbed a clean pair of boxers out of his chest of drawers and threw them on. He climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

“There’s something in that book that might work,” Draco said. “It involves yohimbe bark and cardamom. Only glitch is it needs to be stewed on the full moon. That’s three weeks from now.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Harry said. He yawned loudly and checked the time. “Merlin, it’s nearly one, no wonder I can barely stay awake. I feel like a little old man. Goodnight, Draco.”

“Night,” Draco replied. “ _Nox._ ” The room was filled instantly with darkness. 

Harry was just drifting off when he felt the warm presence of Draco’s naked chest pressed against his back.

“Just so you know,” Draco whispered, “it’s not the same. Not when you can’t, as well.”

Harry didn’t know if this was a comfort or not, as he finally drifted off. 


	3. The Yohimbe Potion

_Thursday 23rd May 2013_

_Dear Dad,_

_How are you and Father? I haven’t written in a few days so thought I’d send you a quick letter. Are you coming up to Hogwarts for the Quidditch match? It’s between us and Gryffindor for the Cup this year, and as much as I don’t want to upset Teddy Bear, I really want to win it in my first year on the team. You won it for the first time in your third year too, didn’t you? The year Father was being all pathetic about that Hippogriff (Hagrid still has him, by the way. He’s often in the Forbidden Forest with Grawp)._

_Naomi has got us a different book to read. It’s about vampires. It’d make you laugh, Dad. There’s a character whose surname is Black and he turns into a big dog (well, wolf, but that’s just semantics). It really reminded me of the stories you told me about your godfather. I promise there’s nothing very sexy in it and even McGonagall said it’s OK, but to remember that real vampires don’t sparkle._

_I got Father a book for his birthday. I saw it in Hogsmeade last weekend and thought he’d like it. Thanks for owling the Galleons for it, and, yes, I kept the receipt so you can check it’s what I spent the money on, as you told me to. I’ll give it to him on Saturday, if you’re coming._

_Well, I’ve got Potions homework to do, so I’d best go. Thank Merlin I take after Father and Grandma Potter and not you, and actually understand the subject. And it helps that Professor Govan has really lovely brown eyes and he’s kind to us. I’m so glad Slughorn retired for good last year. He was an idiot._

_See you soon,_

_Love from Lily_

*

_Friday 24th May 2013_

_Dear Lily,_

_Thank you for your letter, and, for once, not begging for money or yelling at me. Of course your father and I are coming up to watch you play! We’ve not missed your other matches, have we? I even cheered when you caught the Snitch against Gryffindor. Which reminds me, how is Freddy now? George said he took a Bludger which broke his arm in the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff game._

_I showed your father this letter (I charmed it to hide the part about his birthday present). He asked me to congratulate you on the correct use of ‘you’re’ this time. He also says that Buckbeak severely injured him and that he still has the scar to prove it. He lies. He was a giant baby and it backfired when I snatched the Snitch from under his nose in the final game of the season._

_Those books sound better. But remember, the Muggles may think that vampires are just fictional, but we know differently. And they’re dangerous, so stay clear from them! Honestly, they’re not good boyfriend material._

_I’m glad you’re doing well in Potions. Less glad you’re ogling the professor, but I can’t have everything. And it makes a pleasant change from having to hear about what colour Teddy’s eyes have been this week._

_I’ll leave it there, as I’m seeing you tomorrow anyway. I can’t wait to see you._

_All my love,_

_Dad xx_

*

Saturday the twenty-fifth of May, the day of Lily’s final Quidditch match of the school year, also happened to be the day of the full moon. Draco finished the potion that would hopefully restore Harry to full potency just in time for him and Harry to Apparate to Hogsmeade to watch their daughter play. He decanted it into a phial to cool, and corked it. Both he and Harry stared at it as if it contained the meaning of life. 

“It needs the yohimbe bark adding still, but that has to be done once the moon is up. Apart from that it’s all ready,” Draco said gently, eyes sparkling in anticipation, and Harry’s stomach fluttered uncomfortably as he commanded himself not to get his hopes up. The last three weeks had been… difficult. And whilst he’d, ah, ‘been there for Draco’, Draco had flat-out refused to have penetrative sex with him (“No, Harry, not whilst I know you’re not enjoying it. I utterly refuse.”), and Harry had satisfied him with his mouth and hands only. And his own physical situation was unchanged. He’d even given in and researched Viagra on the internet, but after reading the unpleasant side effects he decided he’d try every potion ever invented by wizardkind first. 

Whilst he did continue to get morning wood, Harry had long ceased trying to take advantage of it. As soon as either his (or, on two optimistic mornings) Draco’s hand wrapped around it, it deflated quicker than the time it took to Apparate, leaving Harry utterly frustrated and humiliated. 

The thoughts of the evening to come distracted Harry so much that he barely noticed their usually enjoyable walk through Hogsmeade, and he was startled to find himself at the gates of the castle. 

They made their way to the already crowded Quidditch pitch. The teams hadn’t yet emerged, which was good; Harry would have hated to have missed the beginning. Still, a quick check of his watch showed there was only a minute to go until the scheduled start time. He and Draco quickened their pace, paying attention to the commentator, who was announcing the teams, not paying enough attention to where they were walking. Which is why Harry managed to run smack into the back of a student, almost sending him flying. 

“Fu- I mean, Merlin, are you OK?” Harry asked the slightly startled youngster, who looked up at him with huge amusement.

“Harry, it’s me,” said a very familiar voice. 

“Teddy?!”

“Yeah,” Teddy replied with a huge grin. “D’ you like the look?” Today he had chocolate brown hair which fell in ringlets, settling just above his shoulders, and his eyes were a sparking aqua. He’d also changed the shape of his nose and mouth. No wonder Harry didn’t recognise him straight away; he looking nothing like himself. “I just couldn’t face Lils pestering me today. ‘Oh, Teddy,’” he began, in a mock high voice which was clearly supposed to be an imitation of Lily, “‘it’s going to devastate me to beat you, darling. I just hope a Slytherin win won’t come between us.’ Honestly, Harry, I can’t bloody take it anymore.”

Draco muttered something intelligible but looked embarrassed for Teddy. Harry gave him a sympathetic look. 

“Want to sit away from the students today? I’ve not seen you for ages. Come and sit with Draco and me in the family stand.”

They made their way to their seats just in time. The teams were on the pitch now, doing their warm-up laps. Lily was easy to spot. Despite the fact she had inherited Harry’s height- or, lack of, to be more accurate- she stood out from the others with ease. Harry smiled as he watched her fly, remembering the first time he and Draco had taken her on a broomstick. It had been her second Christmas, when she was nineteen months old. She’d had a toy broomstick for her first birthday, but kept pointing to Daddy’s ‘bwoom’ hopefully. After Christmas dinner at The Burrow, the traditional Christmas Day Quidditch match had begun, and Lily had been desperate to fly. Harry and Draco exchanged glances, and before Molly Weasley could start yelling about irresponsible parents, they’d both mounted Harry’s Firebolt II, secured Lily in front of Harry, and kicked off from the ground. Lily’s giggles and whoops of joy that the flight had produced was one of his favourite memories. And from that moment, like both her fathers, Lily was hooked on flying. She was a natural in the air.

He drew his attention back to the present. The teams were in place now, and the Slytherin captain, a fifth year by the name of Alexander Pucey, was shaking hands with the Hufflepuff captain. Madam Hooch rose into the sky with the captains, the balls were released, she blew her whistle, and they were off. 

Ten minutes in, and Slytherin were already leading fifty points to zero, and Teddy looked sick. A win for Slytherin wouldn’t necessarily be enough to secure the Cup for them before Gryffindor’s final game, but a win by a margin of three hundred or more would be. Harry’s heart went out to his young godson. He knew exactly how he felt. By the time the match was thirty minutes old, the gap had increased to a hundred points. Suddenly there was a huge roar from the crowd as the Hufflepuff Seeker dived towards the ground, and Teddy stared hopefully. Harry wasn’t fooled though, and a quick exchange of glances with Draco told him that he wasn’t either. Nor, apparently, was their daughter; Lily was coolly sat atop her broomstick, looking every inch the Malfoy she was, arms folded and one eyebrow raised, staring at the Hufflepuff Seeker. She’d not even attempted to follow him. Clearly dejected that his plan had so obviously failed, he pulled out of the Wronski Feint and returned to the game. Harry felt his chest puff out with pride. No one could ever accuse Lily Eltanin Potter-Malfoy of having got onto the team thanks to who her father was. She was extremely talented in her own right.

The overall result was a foregone conclusion, and when Lily caught the Snitch an hour into the game after a spectacular hundred-feet dive, securing a three hundred and forty to thirty points win for Slytherin, and therefore winning the Quidditch Cup, Harry found himself cheering like a madman along with Draco. Until he caught sight of Teddy’s face. He looked crushed. 

“It’s all fucking bollocks,” Teddy said miserably, and Harry didn’t have the heart to tell him off for his language. He’d said worse himself at his age when it came to Quidditch, after all. 

“I know, mate. I felt the same way in my first year,” Harry reassured him, a spike of something like guilt surging through him. He’d always felt a bit guilty about cheering for Slytherin; like he was betraying Gryffindor or something. Draco had reminded him that he wasn’t cheering for Slytherin, he was cheering for his daughter, and had Lily been Sorted into Gryffindor (something that was obvious from the time Lily could speak was never going to happen), he’d have cheered for Harry’s former house. It had nothing to do with betrayal. Harry knew he was right, but it didn’t make him feel any differently.

“At least you did win it,” Teddy said. He put his head in his hands. “Last year we lost it to Ravenclaw in the final match of the season, and now this. This sucks.”

“I never won it either,” Draco said, in what Harry thought was Draco thinking he was being helpful, but in fact just caused Teddy to release a moan of pain. “Golden Boy here got the better of me every time.”

They made their way down from the stands, Harry and Draco’s offer to Teddy to join them for lunch politely declined. Harry hated seeing his young godson looking so miserable, but knew that spending the afternoon with his Gryffindor teammates and slagging off both Slytherin and Hufflepuff was the best therapy for him right now. Reluctantly he said goodbye and promised to see him soon. Teddy smiled slightly, said goodbye to Draco, then, noticing Lily approaching them, darted off quickly into the crowd of students heading back to the castle. 

Draco got to Lily first as she approached them, and gave her a massive hug. 

“You were incredible,” he said as she hugged him back.

“Amazing, Lily,” Harry added, as he held out his arms for his own hug. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks!” Lily beamed as she broke away. “And, Dad, you don’t mind that we beat Gryffindor?”

“No,” Harry said. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Where shall we go for lunch?” Draco asked. “We always end up by the bloody lake.” He looked over towards the lake, where several of Lily’s Slytherin teammates were celebrating with their families. Harry could see straight away why Draco wanted to avoid it. Even now they still received stares when all three were together. 

“Um, what about the meadow on the edge of the Forbidden Forest?” he suggested. This was met with agreement from the other two, and they walked over to it quickly. Thankfully, it was empty. Harry took a tiny basket out of his pocket and flicked his wand. The picnic basket instantly resized, and spilt its contents out in a neat and orderly manner. They all tucked in. 

“Here you are, Father. Happy birthday,” Lily said, handing Draco a messily-wrapped present which she’d dropped a blob of mayonnaise onto. “I won’t see you on the fifth, so thought it’d be easier to give it to you now, rather than try and send it with Phoebe. I don’t think she’d manage the trip across almost the entire length of the UK with this.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Draco said, with a big grin. Lily’s face lit with happiness at Draco’s obvious joy to receive a gift, and Harry felt himself smiling too. For, as difficult as Lily could be, and the fact that he’d had to send up extra money for her to actually buy Draco something in the first place, he knew that deep down, his stroppy teenaged daughter was still that sweet little girl who liked nothing more than stoking her Pygmy Puff, and who adored both her dads. 

As always when visiting their daughter, the time to leave came far too soon. 

“Don’t rub Teddy’s face in this,” Harry said, as he hugged Lily goodbye. “Or Fred’s. He’ll be gutted too. And be good. Can you make it another month without getting into trouble?”

“Take care, Lily bud,” Draco said, kissing his daughter on the cheek. “Love you. Always have, always will.”

Harry saw Naomi Churcher waiting for Lily by the main entrance, shoe heels too high, make up too thick, and skirt too short. His eyes narrowed in distaste. It was a shame, he thought, that he couldn’t choose Lily’s friends for her. Maybe it was because the only girls he’d ever really spent time with were Hermione and Ginny, neither of whom were particularly ‘girlie’ girls, but the heavily made-up look made him nervous. 

With a final kiss and hug, Lily ran off to meet her friend. And, as always, Harry felt the pang at leaving his daughter. His mood was lifted, however, when Draco murmured low in his ear, “Only a few hours until the moon is up.” He grinned and the two made their way out of the grounds, Apparating home.

*

The remainder of the evening passed way too slowly. He and Draco ate dinner in near silence, both clock-watching. The hands didn’t seem to shift, and it appeared to Harry to be as bright outside as ever. But eventually the sunlight failed for the day and the moon was visible in the sky, huge and round and bright. Harry bit his lip nervously as Draco took a deep breath, un-stoppered the phial, and added the yohimbe bark. It fizzed and effervesced, before dissolving, leaving the potion looking exactly as it had. 

“It should work very quickly once you’ve swallowed it. I can add honey if it’s too sour, but no sugar as it interferes with the Fluxweed,” Draco said, handing Harry the potion. 

“No, ‘s OK,” he replied. “Cheers.” He opened his mouth, tipped the entire contents of the potion in, and swallowed quickly, fighting the urge to spit it straight back out. “Eugh, that’s nasty.”

“Anything?” Draco asked the second Harry finished swallowing, and Harry blinked. Was Draco expecting an instant erection or something? If he was, then he was going to be disappointed.

“Um, no, not yet. Maybe we should, you know, set the mood a bit,” Harry said, and pulled Draco into a kiss. It started off awkwardly but he felt himself relax into the familiar feel of Draco’s lips on his. He automatically opened his mouth to Draco, readily accepting his impatient tongue.

“Harry,” Draco whispered into his mouth, and then his fingers were on Harry’s trousers, fumbling with the fly. Panic shot through Harry’s spine but he fought it down. This was Draco. Draco must have touched him thousands of times by now. And the fact he wasn’t hard yet didn’t mean the potion had failed. He was hardly nineteen anymore; even without a spot of sexual dysfunction he rarely became erect just from a kiss nowadays. 

Draco eventually unfastened Harry’s trousers and slipped them down, along with his underwear, and Harry closed his eyes, willing the potion to react and force his dormant body to perform. 

Draco took a small tube of lubricant from the pocket of his own trousers and uncapped it with his free hand. He coated his palm with it then, kissing Harry hungrily, took Harry into his hands. 

And it was at that exact moment that Harry knew the potion hadn’t worked. 

His brain was turned on, screaming _yes_. He wanted Draco, wanted him so much it physically hurt at this moment, but he felt no physical desire. Draco may as well have been stroking Harry’s elbow for all the sexual sensation Harry was receiving. And from the increase in both Draco’s grip and the speed in which he stroked Harry, he was coming to the same conclusion. 

“Draco,” Harry said, and he heard his voice crack. “It’s not working.” 

Draco looked at Harry for a second, his eyes fired with pure frustration, then pulled him into an almost violent kiss. His stoking didn’t relent; if anything, Draco doubled his efforts. It was hard, and commanding, and Harry didn’t like it one little bit. It made him feel very uneasy. Then Draco gripped him especially tight, causing Harry to cry out in pain.

“You’re hurting me,” Harry managed to say against Draco’s bruising mouth. “Please, Draco. Please stop.” Draco acted as if he hadn’t heard Harry, his fist moving at lightning speed over Harry’s flaccid penis, which Harry thought wouldn’t be rising even if he didn’t have a problem, due to Draco’s treatment of it right now. As loath as he was to admit it, there was a trickle of fear running through him now.

“Enough, Draco,” Harry commanded, his emotions very near the surface. Still Draco refused to stop, and Harry, angry now, physically pushed him away, causing Draco’s grip on him to release as he stumbled backwards. Harry could hear his ragged breathing. When Harry met Draco’s eyes, he realised he looked devastated, but there was a flash of fury in them too. Whether aimed at him or the potion, Harry didn’t know.

“I said stop,” Harry said, glaring at his partner. “What part of that didn’t you understand? Wrenching me like that was never going to achieve anything, was it!”

“I don’t know what else to do, Harry,” Draco said. His voice was stoic, but he also sounded thoroughly defeated. “That potion should have worked. Even the Muggles know about yohimbe, and it works for them, even without the rest of the magic part of the potion.” He met Harry’s eyes then, and his eyes widened in shock, as the realisation of how he’d just behaved hit home. He turned white. “I… Fuck. I just need to be alone for a bit.” Draco turned and walked out of the room, and a minute later Harry heard their bedroom door slam shut, leaving him standing alone, pants round his ankles, in the middle of their living room, and feeling very close to crying. 

He knew Draco was disappointed, and desperate, and that was the reason for his almost aggressive behaviour, but Harry needed to get away from both him and the whole fucking subject for a bit. He quickly redressed, grabbed his broom from the closet by the stairs, and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. Then he flung open the front door, mounted his broom, and kicked off hard from the ground. 

The air was freezing once he had climbed a few hundred feet up in the sky, and he realised belatedly he should have thrown on a jumper or something, rather than just the cotton T-shirt and linen trousers he had on. His eyes were stinging, and he didn’t even try to pretend to himself it was purely down to the air as it smacked his face. He blinked rapidly to remove the tears that were blurring his vision, and continued on his journey. He knew where he was going, and it wasn’t very far away; a spot in the South Downs only about three miles from his home, that both he and Draco were particularly fond of. And this time of night it would be deserted. Perfect. 

He landed at Butser Hill and removed the Disillusionment Charm from himself. It was warmer now he was back on the ground, but he was still shivering. He didn’t think it was entirely to do with the cold; adrenalin was surging through him and he was more than a little upset. Harry looked up to the sky, as he always did when he was here. In town the street lights were always harsh and the light pollution they produced blocked the night sky. Here, out in the pitch black openness, it reminded him of the night sky at Hogwarts; clear and bright. The stars twinkled radiantly, and the full moon cast an ethereal glow across his skin. The juxtaposition between this and his dark mood was startling.

Harry quickly located the Draco constellation, located next to Ursa Major. Then he sought out his favourite star in the night sky. Gamma Draconis. Eltanin. He stared at the star his daughter was named for, wishing everything could return to how it was, less than a month previously. Harry blinked again and this time felt wetness streak down his face, and what was the point, really, in stopping the tears? He let them fall, tears of frustration, and anger, and fear, and disappointment. It was only now, that Draco’s potion had failed, that he realised how much they had both been relying on it. _It doesn’t matter, this is only for another couple of weeks, Draco’s potion will fix me_ , he’d thought. Well, it hadn’t. And now he didn’t know what the fuck to do. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, let his forehead fall, and let himself weep.

He didn’t know how long he sat on the hill, staring at the sky. Long enough that he’d managed to cry himself out, and the temperature had fallen significantly. He didn’t know what sort of mood Draco was going to be in when he got back, and felt far too weary for a fight. Instead he stood up, picked his Firebolt II from the ground, and turned on the spot, Apparating away. He landed messily on Ron and Hermione’s doorstep. Only once he’d knocked for a good ten minutes and a bleary-eyed Hermione, dressed in a fluffy purple dressing gown and with hair all over the place, answered the door, did Harry consider how late it was. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked. Hermione glared at him, which instantly changed to a look of deep concern when she saw his face, which he was sure looked as puffy and red as it felt. She pulled him inside and closed the front door.

“It’s one in the morning, Harry,” she said, but her voice was kind, if still thick and groggy. “Course I was asleep. Tea?”

“Thanks. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was so late,” he said. “Um, Hermione, can I kip on your sofa for the night? I, um, I’d rather not go back home, really.” Hermione’s lips thinned with worry, and Harry could almost see her desperate to ask what had happened, but she didn’t say anything.

“Of course you can,” she said, filling the kettle. “As long as you don’t mind being woken up at the crack of dawn by the kids.” 

“That’s fine. Thanks, Hermione. Um, do you have some parchment and ink? And, er, can I borrow your owl? I should probably let Draco know where I am.”

She nodded and pulled out the stationery from a drawer in the kitchen dresser. She handed it to Harry with a small concerned smile, but didn’t push him to talk about the obvious fight he and Draco had had, and Harry was suddenly mightily relieved it was she, and not Ron, who had answered the door, who would have demanded answers. He began to write.

 _Draco,_ the letter began, 

_I’m and Ron and Hermione’s. Don’t worry, I’m OK. I just think we probably both need to calm down for a bit. I’ll be back home in the morning._

_I’m sorry the potion failed. I don’t know what else to try either. But I’m scared this is going to come between us. I don’t want it to, Draco. But it will, if we let it. Almost assaulting me over it, like you did this evening, is never going to help things, is it? I was disappointed too, you know. And you hurt me tonight._

_I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you._

_Harry._

He sent it off with the Ron’s owl whilst Hermione found a blanket and a squashy pillow. Everything would be OK, he told himself, as he said goodnight to Hermione and made up his makeshift bed. It had to be.

*

After an uncomfortable and mostly restless night’s sleep on the sofa, which climaxed with a five-year-old Hugo jumping on him and yelling, “Uncle Harry!” at six in the morning, Harry stayed for breakfast with Ron and Hermione (Ron didn’t ask Harry to talk but the pointed looks he was giving him meant he knew what it was about anyway), then Apparated home. He returned his broom to the closet and walked into the kitchen. Draco was sat at the table, staring at the wall opposite, a cup of untouched and no doubt stone cold coffee sat him front of him, next to which was Harry’s letter. He was incredibly pale, even for him, and his hair was a fright. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept at all. 

“Hey,” Harry said softly, and Draco jumped. He’d clearly not heard Harry come home. 

“Harry. Thank fuck,” Draco said, as relief crossed his face. He stood from the table. “Circe, Harry, I’m so sorry.” The next thing Harry knew was he was engulfed in Draco’s arms, and he was hugging him back fiercely. 

“I don’t want to try any other potions or anything,” Harry said. “It’s driving a wedge between us, not helping things.”

“We were both disappointed last night,” Draco replied. “And I behaved appallingly. I just-” He paused. “I feel like a complete failure, you know?”

Harry did know. He felt exactly the same. 

“I hate this,” he muttered. 

“We relied too much on a potion,” Draco said. “I don’t think either of us thought about what we’d feel like if it didn’t work. I was so sure it would. We weren’t prepared to deal with what would happen if it failed.”

“Come flying with me,” Harry said suddenly. “Let’s take a picnic breakfast and go to Butser Hill. I didn’t eat much at Ron’s.”

“That’s where you went last night, isn’t it?” Draco said knowingly. Harry nodded. 

“But this time you’ll be with me. Together,” he replied, emphasising the last word before pulling Draco into a kiss. It was the opposite of the borderline brutal kiss Draco had given him less than ten hours’ previously; it was soft, gentle and full of love. He could feel Draco trembling.

“Together,” he repeated, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips. “I like the sound of that.”


	4. Howlers and Home

_Friday 7th June 2013_

_Dear Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy,_

_I regret to inform you that your daughter Lily, in addition to three other third year Slytherin girls, has been caught spying on the fourth year Gryffindor boys whilst the latter were in the shower block. This is obviously a very serious offence, not to mention a severe invasion of privacy and I would like to speak with you both in person at your earliest convenience to discuss Lily’s punishment._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall, Headmistress_

*

_Lily,_

_I’ve never been more disgusted with you._

_Don’t even think of not turning up to dinner in the Great Hall today as there is some interesting post coming your way. You will be there to receive it or you will suffer the consequences. I’ll leave the rest of what I have to say for you- and everyone else- to hear then._

_Father._

*

_Lily-_

_You have some serious explaining to do. I’ll be at Hogwarts this evening with your father, and I will not be taking any crap excuses. I’m thoroughly ashamed of you. What am I supposed to say to Teddy now? Did you for a second consider how this will affect the rest of the family? You stupid, selfish child._

_-Dad_

*

“Good morning, Head Auror Potter,” Isabelle said, as Harry arrived for work. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“Lovely, thanks,” Harry said absent-mindedly. He was still fuming over the letter he and Draco had received that morning from the Headmistress. Fucking Lily. Not only was his daughter some kind of Peeping Tom, but it was _Teddy Lupin_ she’d been spying on, which was a whole other type of awkwardness. Merlin, he thought wearily, she’d be lucky to avoid expulsion over this. Fear prickled through him, for, as furious as he was with his daughter, the idea that she could be kicked out of Hogwarts and have her wand snapped was incomprehensible. _You never got expelled_ , a voice inside his head reminded him. _Including the time you almost killed Draco with Sectumsempra_. Still, it was out of his hands now. All he could do is wait to see what McGonagall would decide. Part of him traitorously wondered how much weight being the daughter of the Boy Who Lived could count towards saving her. He hoped the Howler Draco was sending her would sufficiently embarrass her in front of her friends and the rest of the school, anyway. 

He distractedly thanked Isabelle for the coffee, then Summoned the Wyatt case folder over to him. John Wyatt was wanted for trading in contraband Potions ingredients, and was believed to be responsible for at least two deaths and four critical admissions to St Mungo’s so far from poor quality goods. He and Ron had been trying to catch the bastard for weeks now, and were planning an expedition to Southampton docks that afternoon to try and intercept a Muggle cargo ship from New Zealand they believed he was using. At least it would take his mind off Lily for a couple of hours, he thought wryly.

“Are you OK, Head Auror Potter?” Isabelle asked, and Harry jumped. He hadn’t realised his secretary was still there.

“Er, yeah,” he replied, looking at her for the first time that morning. He did a double-take. Today, Isabelle was wearing a mohair jumper in beige with a grey Shih Tzu with an orange bow tied in a bit of its hair knitted onto the front. She was wearing an orange bow in her own hair to match, balanced on the top of her head like a pair of Minnie Mouse ears. With it was a sienna coloured knee-length skirt, and rounded off with a pair of black socks and brown open- toed sandals. The entire outfit was extremely hideous. He bit back a laugh, grateful for the emotion of humour for once. It took him a few moments to remember what Isabelle’s question had been. “Just got a few issues with my daughter at school. Nothing major.”

“You know where I am if you need to talk,” Isabelle replied, pushing her thick-lensed glasses back up her pointy, slightly hooked nose, causing her eyes to become hugely magnified. Harry suddenly had an unwelcome mental image of this is how the love child of Snape and Trelawney would look. He shook his head, trying to remove the picture before it branded itself into his memory.

“Um, thanks,” Harry replied, uncomfortable. When had he ever given the impression to his secretary that he’d in any world pick her as his confidante? Although, he had to admit as he grabbed the steaming mug from his desk and drank deeply, she did make fantastic coffee.

The morning was taken up with paperwork and overseeing the training of some new recruits. By the time Harry emerged from the training room at midday, he was feeling rather sore from taking a bunch of hexes from his trainees, and would have gladly killed if it meant he could just go home and soak in the bath with a glass of wine and Draco for an hour. A cheese sandwich and Isabelle was a poor substitute, he mused, but that was apparently what the Universe had decided he was getting, given he’d just walked back into his office to find her perched on the corner of his desk, holding out the sandwich like it was the Quidditch World Cup. She beamed.

“I thought you’d like some lunch, Head Auror Potter,” she said. “Please, eat.”

“I’m really not that hungry,” Harry replied, pulling the slightly stale slice of bread apart from the limp, sweaty cheese. “But thanks for the gesture. You’re sweet.”

The annoyance on Isabelle’s face that had developed there when Harry refused the sandwich disappeared instantly to be replaced with a look of delight at the words ‘you’re sweet’. She reached out for Harry’s hand. Harry quickly pulled his hand away.

“Isabelle,” he said sternly, “what did we talk about last week?”

“No invading your personal space,” she replied meekly, looking down at the floor.

“And what else?”

“That you’re in love with Draco Malfoy.” She said this in a manner that made her sound like a sulky four-year-old who’d just been told they couldn’t have sweets on their trip to the supermarket.

“Very good. That’s all, Isabelle. And thank you, again, for the sandwich. I’ll be out of the office most of the afternoon,” Harry said, handing Isabelle the sandwich back, and hoping to Merlin that Ron was ready to leave. “I’ll be back about three, all being well.”

“You know, you really should eat. You’re very skinny,” Isabelle replied, her eyes raking over Harry’s body and making him prickle with unease. Then she turned and exited the room. Harry exhaled a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, grabbed his Auror robes, and went to find Ron.

*

He returned about an hour later than he’d said to Isabelle that afternoon. He was tired, dirty, and wondered if she still had that cheese sandwich as he was more than a little hungry now, too. Still, it had been successful; he and Ron had impounded a consignment of dragon blood which he believed came from an Antipodean Opaleye, a species of dragon native to New Zealand and known for its highly toxic blood, which made it both illegal and extremely dangerous to use in Potions in the UK. They’d not managed to catch Wyatt, but Ron had managed to Stun and then arrest one of his cronies, and he and Auror Dexter were currently interrogating the man under Veritaserum. Harry had even managed to put Lily and his erection problems to the back of his mind for a couple of hours. It had been strangely liberating.

“Head Auror Potter! I was beginning to worry,” Isabelle said when she saw him approach. “You’ve received about twelve owls. I’ve filed them on your desk for you.”

“Thanks,” Harry said wearily, and stepped into his office. His brow furrowed in confusion.

“Um, Isabelle, who are these chocolates from?” he called, as he picked up a huge box of Honeydukes’ confectionary from his desk. Not from Draco, of that he was sure. Draco always said Honeydukes were too sweet, and mainly for kids, with synthetic-tasting fillings. His chocolates came from Belgium or Switzerland, sent to him by Narcissa whenever she and Lucius were on the Continent.

“Me,” Isabelle replied, confirming Harry’s suspicions. “You looked so angry this morning I thought you needed a treat. I popped out to Diagon Alley in my lunch break and grabbed these for you.”

“It’s a very lovely gesture,” Harry said, privately thinking it’d be a cold day in Hades before he ever accepted chocolates from someone he wasn’t close to (Romilda Vane having turned him off chocolate as a gift for life), “but, er, I’m allergic to chocolate. Perhaps you could give them to your boyfriend?”

Isabelle’s huge eyes filled with sadness, and reminded Harry of Puss in Boots from a Muggle film he’d taken Lily to see at the cinema when she was younger.

“I don’t _have_ a boyfriend, Head Auror Potter. I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

 _Can’t possibly imagine why not,_ Harry thought drily, before chastising himself for his unkind musings. Isabelle was perfectly lovely. Just a little… strange.

“I have cats though,” she added. Harry’s lips twitched.

“Then take these and share them with your cats. With my blessing,” he said, deadpanned. “I’m heading off now. I know it’s a bit early and I’ve not looked at the post yet but it’s been a busy day and I’ve still got to go up to Hogwarts this evening. I’ll see you on Monday, Isabelle.”

“Goodbye, Head Auror Potter,” Isabelle replied.

Harry quickly headed for the Atrium and Apparated home. Draco wasn’t there; he must have still been at work. Harry took a quick shower and changed his clothes, choosing a smart shirt and black trousers for the occasion, and threw down a bowl of Weetabix. Then, silently cursing the god of teenage hormones for making Lily grow up, he grabbed his wand off the kitchen table and turned on the spot, Apparating to the gates of Hogwarts castle.

Draco was already there waiting for him, still in his St Mungo’s robes. He pulled Harry into a quick hug when he saw him arrive.

“Ready to get this nightmare over with?” he asked. Harry nodded, all his earlier amusement caused by Isabelle’s behaviour forgotten.

“So, how was your day?” Draco inquired, as Harry cast a Patronus to let McGonagall know they were on their way, and they made their way through the grounds to the main entrance. Harry told him about Wyatt and the impounded dragon blood, and Isabelle with the sandwich and chocolates, and the horrible clothes.

“She’s got a crush on you,” Draco said. He was smiling, but Harry could hear the jealousy.

“Well, she has no chance. I’m kind of madly in love with someone else,” Harry said, squeezing Draco’s hand tightly.

“You’ll have to introduce me to him,” Draco teased, “so I can kick his arse.”

“Ah, I don’t know. I think you’d get on. He’s vain, gorgeous and obsessed with his hair, plus he’s a Potions genius.”

At the mention of ‘Potions’, however, their playful banter ended; the memory of the failed Yohimbe Potion a couple of weeks previously was still fresh in both their minds. Neither said anything, their unspoken agreement not to mention it holding, but Harry wished he could go back a couple of minutes and just not say it at all. _You bloody moron_ , he chastised himself.

However, as soon as they pushed open the doors and entered the Entrance Hall, a huge commotion coming from the Great Hall distracted him sufficiently that even thoughts of failed potions were erased from his mind. For he could hear, perfectly clearly, Draco’s voice, magically magnified a few dozen times, yelling:

“DISGRACE ON OUR FAMILY… INVASION OF PRIVACY… LUCKY IF YOU’RE NOT EXPELLED… STUPID LITTLE GIRL… SERIOUS TROUBLE, AND NOT JUST FROM THE HEADMISTRESS!”

“Dear God, is that what I actually sound like when I shout?” Draco said, as he and Harry heard the Howler explode then the Hall erupt in laughter. “Do I really go all high-pitched and whiny like that?”

“Do you think we’ve embarrassed her enough yet?” Harry asked, amused.

“Not possible. Come on,” Draco said.

It had been many years since Harry had walked the corridors of Hogwarts, yet his brain clearly remembered the way, as before he knew it, he was at the bottom of the spiral staircase that led up to the Headmistress’ office. He checked his watch; dinner had just finished. The headmistress and Lily would be here soon.

Less than five minutes later, McGonagall appeared with Lily trailing, looking pale and small, behind her. She didn’t even acknowledge her fathers; instead she simply followed them all up the stairs and into McGonagall’s office.

“Take a seat,” Professor McGonagall said. “Tea?”

“No, thank you,” Draco said. “Please just tell us what trouble she’s in.”

“Are you expelling her?” Harry blurted out. Lily’s eyes widened and she looked terrified.

“No, not this time,” McGonagall replied, and relief washed over Harry. A quick look at both Draco and Lily showed they were wearing identical expressions of relief, too. “However I am excluding Lily from Hogwarts for the remainder of the school year. Work will be sent home which I expect to be completed. She will, of course, use no magic until she begins her fourth year on the first of September.”

“And the others?” Draco asked, glaring at his wayward daughter.

“The same punishment, Mister Malfoy,” McGonagall said. “They’ve all committed the same crime, after all. I will require that you take Lily off the school premises this evening, I’m afraid.”

“Why did you do this, Lily?” Draco asked. He had a strange combination of exhaustion and fury on his face.

“I dunno. We just thought it’d be fun,” Lily replied quietly.

“Idiot child,” Draco said. “Is it alright if I escort her to the dungeons to pack, Professor?” McGonagall nodded, and Draco glared at his daughter, clearly ordering her to stand up. The two left, leaving Harry alone with his former Head of house.

“I am so sorry,” he said eventually. “She’s got this stupid crush on Teddy and… I don’t know. She won’t go unpunished at home, Professor. This won’t be an extended holiday for her. And she’ll be apologising to Teddy and the others.” He suddenly felt as if he was the fourteen-year-old, being reprimanded for whatever misdemeanour he’d been engaged in that week, rather than Head of the Auror Office of the United Kingdom, and the man of nearly thirty-three that he was. Professor McGonagall smiled kindly.

“You do know, Potter, that this classifies as sexual harassment and I should have expelled Lily and her friends for that reason, don’t you?” she said, with a twinkling in her eyes, so like Dumbledore’s. She didn’t need to elaborate. Harry knew that Minerva McGonagall had been extremely fond of his daughter since she laid eyes on her for the first time when Lily was a week old. It was a fact that had just saved her, and her friends, from expulsion.

“Thank you,” he said, with full sincerity, wondering if Molly Weasley or Hermione would agree to watch Lily for the next few weeks whilst he and Draco were at work.

He allowed McGonagall to pour him a cup of tea then, and drank it whilst chatting with Dumbledore’s portrait (Snape had taken one look at him and walked out of his as soon as Harry entered the Headmistress’ office). After twenty minutes or so, Lily and Draco reappeared. Draco was Levitating Lily’s trunk, whilst Lily had Phoebe securely locked in her cage. Harry noticed that Lily’s eyes were red.

“…and when we get home you’re cleaning- no, _scrubbing_ \- the bathroom until it sparkles, do you hear?” Draco shouted.

“It’s like I’m Cinderella. I’m not a house-elf,” Lily replied, folding her arms over her chest. Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Harry- who never lost his temper with Lily if he could avoid it- got in first.

“You will do exactly as you are told!” he bellowed, and the portraits of the former headmasters all covered their ears and winced. Even McGonagall jumped, and Lily’s eyes began to leak tears once again as her father yelled. “You are in no position to moan or complain about anything! And when you’ve finished that you can write a letter out to each of these boys explaining just how sorry you are!”

“Professor, can we please use your Floo?” Draco asked, clearly thinking the best thing was to get Lily home. Professor McGonagall nodded.

“Goodbye, Miss Potter-Malfoy. I shall see you on the first of September. And remember, this is your final warning. Any future misbehaviour of this magnitude and I shall have no choice but to permanently expel you,” she said.

“That’s more than fair, Professor. And thank you again,” Harry said, herding Lily towards the Floo. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder, threw it into the fireplace, all but pushed Lily into the emerald flames and called out his address. Two minutes later and they were all home.

“Open your trunk,” Harry commanded. Lily did so. “Now. Hand me the Cloak.”

“But, Dad…” Lily began, then obviously changed her mind about arguing when she saw Harry’s face. She pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and handed it over.

“You will not be having this at Hogwarts again, as clearly you’re too immature to be trusted with it,” Harry said. “I’ll give it to Teddy. It might help him escape from you and your gang of nutcase friends.”

“But… you said it was mine! He got the Marauder’s Map when he started Hogwarts because of Remus, and I got your Cloak!” Lily wailed. The tears were falling again now.

“I’m rescinding my gift,” Harry replied, wondering if Draco’s language was rubbing off on him. He was quite sure he’d never used the word ‘rescinding’ before in his life. “Sorry, Lily, but I just don’t trust you with it.”

“It’s not fair! Like you never broke a rule at school!” Lily shouted, and as angry as he was, Harry couldn’t help but notice the Potter defiance in her. She was so much like Draco most of the time, in both looks and mannerisms, that is was lovely to see his traits coming through, too. He just wished it wouldn’t happen when he was furious with her, and when she was behaving like a first class brat.

“I may have broken a few rules, but I never resorted to voyeurism,” Harry snapped.

“You are in no position to judge what is fair or not,” Draco added. “Now, go and make a start on that bathroom. I want to be able to see my face reflected in the tiles by the time you’re finished.”

Lily turned and ran out of the room. Her angry sobs could be heard throughout the house. Draco buried his head in his hands and sank onto the sofa.

“Fuck,” he said. “And we were supposed to be going out for dinner tonight for my birthday.”

A grin spread across Harry’s face as an idea came to him.

“We still can. Hang on,” he said. “I just need to make a Floo call.”

Five minutes later he emerged from the fire, looking pleased.

“All sorted,” he said. “Percy is coming over to sit with her. He’s going to read aloud the latest Ministry manifesto on wand width standardisation.” He smirked. “Apparently it’s a fifty-thousand word dossier.”

“Excellent,” Draco replied.

*

An hour later, the bathroom was pristine, Lily had moaned and complained until Harry’s remaining thread of patience snapped and he cast a Silencing Charm on her, and Percy had arrived with his wife Audrey. Harry had explained what Lily had done and Percy, never one to bend or break a rule, had solemnly promised to ensure Lily was thoroughly fed up by the end of the evening. Harry removed the Silencing Charm, said goodnight to their daughter (and told her to be asleep by ten on the dot or else), and he and Draco had Apparated to a Muggle restaurant next to the waterfront at Portsmouth Harbour, which was about fifteen miles from their house.

“Happy birthday, Draco,” Harry said as the waiter poured them wine.

“It was two days ago,” Draco replied, but he was grinning. It was beginning to get dark now, and for a couple of minutes they were simply content to sit with one another and watch the sun set behind the Isle of Wight. A large passenger ferry set for France sailed by, leaving behind reams of white frothy waves in its path. A few seagulls followed the boat hopefully out of the harbour whilst passengers tossed scraps of bread or chips into the Solent for them. It was a warm evening; one of the few nice summer days they’d had so far in the year.

“So, how else are we going to punish our darling daughter?” Draco asked, pulling Harry’s attention away from two seagulls that were currently fighting over a scrap of food.

“Well, she’s already received a Howler and had the Invisibility Cloak taken away. I was thinking no Naomi Churcher coming to stay until the end of July, rather than coming for the first week of the summer holidays as usual. No internet. No _Twilight_ books. No Quidditch. Phoebe will not be able to take any letters we haven’t pre-approved. And she can endure Hermione teaching her during the day, if Hermione is OK with that,” Harry said. “And she’s writing a proper apology to Teddy first thing tomorrow morning.”

Draco sighed, just as their starters arrived. “Is this our fault? Did we do something wrong?”

“No,” Harry replied. “She’s just fourteen. She’ll turn back into our lovely daughter once she’s done with puberty.”

“I wasn’t like this at her age,” Draco said, and Harry sorted into his prawn cocktail.

“Draco, you were worse.”

“Yeah? Well, I wasn’t the one with an Invisibility Cloak! Merlin knows what _you_ got up to,” Draco retorted. “For all I know, _you_ could have spied on the entire school in the showers!”

“Well, I didn’t,” Harry said. “I was a Gryffindor. We’re all, you know, all chivalrous, and noble and stuff, aren’t we?”

“Bollocks. You just didn’t think of it, did you?”

Harry flushed. “That too. Although I still wouldn’t have done it, even if it had occurred to me.”

“So what did you use the Cloak for, then?” Draco asked, genuinely interested.

“Well,” Harry said, “one time I used it to get a book from the Restricted Section in the library.”

“That Cloak was wasted on a Gryffindor.”

“I remember it coming in handy when I wanted to throw mud at you.”

“Schoolboy games.”

“I _was_ a schoolboy, Draco. I was thirteen.”

The rest of the meal passed wonderfully, even if Draco did throw a fit because his steak was medium instead of medium rare; an issue which ended only when the manager apologised personally and offered them both free puddings. Harry felt like he and Draco, united in their dismay over Lily’s behaviour, had really stuck with one another today, as a single unit. And despite his disgust with what Lily had done, he couldn’t help but be a bit grateful as well. They talked, properly talked, like they hadn’t in over a month, and Harry could feel waves of tension evaporating from both of him. He believed, for the first time since this whole sorry mess had begun, that they really would, truly, get through it.

As they were leaving they passed a newspaper rack filled with complimentary newspapers, left over from when the restaurant served breakfast. A newspaper dated from Draco’s birthday two days previously grabbed his attention with the headline:

****

Gay Marriage a Step Closer, as House of Lords Back Bill

“Draco, stop a sec,” Harry said. “Look at this.” He picked up the newspaper and began to read. His knowledge of Muggle politics was incredibly shoddy, but he remembered enough from primary school to know that this meant the Muggle government was trying to make gay marriage legal- something which the wizarding world refused to even discuss.

“The Muggles are going to allow same-sex couples to marry,” Draco said. He sounded incredibly envious, and Harry’s heart beat faster. It wasn’t something they’d ever discussed, given marriage wasn’t an option for them, but as the years had gone by and Harry had seen first Ginny and Neville tie the knot, followed a few months later by Ron and Hermione, and then various other friends from Hogwarts, he’d learnt to bury that pang of regret that he’d never be able to stand in front of all his family and friends and marry the love of his life, simply because they were both male. It just wasn’t fair.

Harry finished reading the article and replaced the newspaper on its rack. It was dark out now, although the city lights dimmed the night sky. He pushed down the jealousy that he felt.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said softly, talking Draco by the hand. As much as Harry adored the magical world, there was something thrilling about being able to stroll along the quay on a warm summer’s evening, hand in hand with Draco, and not have a single person know, or care, who he was. He found an empty bench in a quiet area away from the bars and restaurants and sat down. Draco sat next to him, and before he’d properly got himself comfortable, Harry had pulled him in for a deep kiss.

“What was that for?” Draco asked, somewhat breathlessly, when they pulled apart.

“Because I love you,” Harry replied simply. “Um, Draco, you do know, don’t you, that if wizarding law was different, I’d have asked you to marry me a very long time ago, right?”

“I do know,” Draco said quietly. “And I’d have asked you too, if you hadn’t asked me.”

“And if our Ministry ever does pull its finger out of its arse and grants equal rights-”

“We’ll get married, yes,” Draco finished. Harry grinned, then paused for a moment, thinking over the conversation.

“Did we just propose to each other?”

“I believe we did, in our own little unconventional way.”

“When has anything about you and me ever been conventional?”

They held hands, staring at the moonlight reflecting off the Solent, and Harry rested his head on Draco’s shoulder. He felt perfectly content.

And then a gust of wind blew up, and a speck of grit must have got into Harry’s eye or something, for he was quite certain it was responsible for the sudden stinging behind his eyelids, because he was a strong and mighty Auror, not a soppy girl.

Yes, definitely the wind.

*

However, all good things must come to an end, and it was with a heavy heart that Harry left his little bubble of anonymity and Apparated back to a world of problems. Lily, being first and foremost.

“Harry!” Percy called in welcome as they arrived home. “I trust you had a pleasant evening?”

“Brilliant, thanks,” Harry grinned. “Has Lily behaved herself?”

“Oh yes. She’s been rather quiet, actually,” Percy said. “Although she was very tired. She took herself off to bed just before nine. She was even too tired to hear about the wand standardisation.”

“Imagine that,” Draco droned. Percy missed his sarcasm.

“Thank you, Percy. I really appreciate it,” Harry said. He said goodnight to him and Audrey, and watched as they disappeared through the Floo. Then he shut it off for the night and took Draco into his arms. Only then did he realise how completely exhausted he was. It had seemed like a week ago that his Friday had begun, not sixteen hours ago. The day had been long and arduous, not to mention eventful. He remembered a time when a meal out in a nice restaurant would always end in frantic, passionate sex, and wondered when he’d gotten so _old_. Even without his current problem, he doubted he’d be able to perform this evening. He tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

“I don’t want to try anything tonight,” he said softly. “I’ve had the perfect end to a shitty day, and I don’t want to ruin it by having it end in disappointment.”

“Shower with me,” Draco said, and Harry nodded.

They quickly checked on Lily, who was definitely genuinely asleep and not faking it (as Draco had said she would be), then headed to the en suite shower in their bedroom. They stripped each other and headed into the shower. And, whilst Harry would have loved nothing more than to have pushed Draco against the tiles and made gentle, lazy, love to him then and there if he’d been able to, he was perfectly content to luxuriate in the feel of Draco washing his hair and body. And although Draco was obviously affected by a wet naked Harry Potter, neither attempted to take it any further than a simple kiss. And, as they finished towelling each other off and slipped into bed nude, curled tightly in one another’s arms and drifting pleasantly into oblivion, Harry felt that together, they could overcome anything.

He was blissfully unaware of just how soon that would be put to the test.


	5. The Calm Before the Storm

_Saturday 8th June 2013_

_To my Teddy bear,_

_I’m so ashamed. I embarrassed you and your friends, and I’m really sorry. It was really wrong of me to do that ~~even if you do have a very lovely bum~~. Dad is really worried it’s going to be weird between you now, and I think he’s really upset about it. _

_I really didn’t mean anything horrible by it, and I really don’t want this to mean we can no longer have a future with one another._

_Your Lily flower._ _Xx xx xx xx xx @)--‘---_

*

_Lils,_

_We’re always gonna be mates, OK? But that is it. And perving on me was a shitty way to try and gain my trust. To be honest, yeah I am pissed off. Imagine if a bunch of Gryffindor boys (not me!) were spying on you, and saw your boobs or something? You’d be well angry. But thanks for the apology. I accept it._

_Look, I really don’t want to sound harsh, but for the twelfth and final time, I’m going out with Victoire. And even if I wasn’t with her… how can I say this? OK- you remember what Harry said about how he and Ginny used to be boyfriend and girlfriend at school but realised they loved each other more like a brother and sister? That’s pretty much how I feel about you. You’re like my little sis or something, y’know? I’ve known you forever and I just don’t feel that way about you. And I don’t want to hurt your feelings here, but I never have, and I never will. Plus, Draco is like my cousin or something, which makes us sort of cousins too, and that’s just yuck. It’s never gonna happen, Lils._

_I’m sorry,_

_Teddy._

_PS tell Harry that of course nothing’s changed. He’s still my favourite godfather._

*

Despite the circumstances of it coming about, Harry had to admit he was enjoying the extra time he had at home with his daughter. Before he knew it, June had passed and July arrived, bringing with it scorching days and balmy nights. He had sent Teddy several letters since The Incident, as he was calling it in his mind, and had been relieved that Teddy had pretty much taken it in his stride. He really was like his mother sometimes, Harry thought. Even Andromeda had forgiven Lily- after a stern talking-to. Lily, for her part, had been well- behaved and quiet since her return. Much to Harry and Draco’s relief, Hermione (who had taken an extended career break and was home-schooling Rose and Hugo until they were both old enough to attend Hogwarts) had readily agreed to take on the wayward teen as her latest ‘pupil’, and Lily’s school work was being kept up to date and was of a high standard. 

In fact, he’d have been perfectly content- had it not been for his continued problems with sex. He was acutely aware now that it was well over two months with nothing, and the longer the problem continued, the less hope Harry had that a solution would be found. 

“Can I have a cup full of your piss?” Draco asked him, about two weeks into July. They were lying together sticky and naked (Lily was with Lucius and Narcissa for the weekend) and Harry had just finished bringing Draco off with his mouth. Harry snorted. 

“Oh, darling, you say the most romantic things,” he quipped. Draco laughed lightly, but sobered again. 

“I want to test it,” he said seriously. “I, as you keep pointing out, am one of the leading Potions experts in the country. If anyone can detect traces of a love potion or inhibiting draught or something, I can. I’m more qualified at this than even the Healers. I just think we need to consider the fact that it’s causing our problem at the moment.”

Harry had to agree it was possible so, the following morning when he needed the loo, he conjured a flask, peed into it, and stoppered it. And it was with not a small amount of embarrassment that he handed it over to Draco. The last time he’d handed over his own urine to anyone was when he was pregnant fourteen and a half years ago and his Healer insisted on testing it at every check-up. 

Draco returned from work that evening with the results. 

“All negative,” he said. “There’s not a single trace of any potion- legal or otherwise- in your system. You’re not being drugged.”

Harry supposed this should be good news- after all, if someone had managed to slip the Head of the Auror Office a love potion or something like that without him noticing, what did that say for his observation skills? But he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. A slipped potion would have been easy to rectify. And it would have meant he could shift the blame, which would have eased his perpetual sense of inadequacy. Draco seemed to know how he was feeling. He scooped Harry into his arms and kissed his forehead.

“I know,” he said simply. “I know.”

*

That had been two weeks previously. Harry awoke early on the morning before his thirty-third birthday well before the alarm was due to go off, and it took him a minute or two to recognise the discomfort he felt for what it was. Then, as realisation dawned, he felt waves of mortification flood over him. 

He’d come in his boxers during the night like some spotty, greasy-faced teenager. 

Thoroughly humiliated, Harry crept into the en suite and peeled the dirty underwear from him. He screwed his eyes tight, willed the prickling behind his eyelids away, and turned on the shower, throwing up an Imperturbable Charm around the room so as not to wake Draco or Lily with the sound of the spray. 

Merlin, he’d not had a wet dream since he was in sixth year at school. 

_At least this means you’re still biologically capable,_ his brain supplied. It was, however, of little comfort. He’d come ( _ha_! He thought) across this whilst researching on the internet. Men who were physiologically capable of maintaining an erection and reaching a climax but couldn’t, for whatever reason, often experienced ‘nocturnal emissions’- as the medical site referred to it- because there was no other sexual activity taking place. The human body literally forced itself to ejaculate if left without release for too long. And it was now over three months since he’d last had an orgasm.

He didn’t even think he’d dreamt about sex that night, and certainly didn’t think he’d become aroused or reached orgasm in his sleep. In fact he was quite sure he’d dreamt about work. He thought the jumper Isabelle had worn yesterday- red with a large green Christmas tree and real sparkling fairy lights despite the fact it was July- had featured in it, possibly being worn by Teddy. He and Ron had spent the whole of Monday’s lunch break in the Leaky doubled over in laughter over the outfit, which Isabelle had teamed with a pair of green leggings and black velvet slippers. She’d looked like a Christmas elf. No wonder the image had imprinted itself into Harry’s mind. 

Harry let the shower get as hot as he could stand it on his bare skin, then got in. He scrubbed himself all over his shameful, treacherous body, washing away the dried traces of semen that had stuck to his skin and hair. He was glad he was working from home today and catching up on paperwork; he could be miserable and stay in his tracksuit bottoms all day sulking and moping and no one could think badly of him. 

Harry shut off the water and flung open the shower door. The temperature of the bathroom was a lot cooler than inside the shower cubicle and he shivered, the fresher air causing his over-heated skin to break out in goose pimples. He quickly dried himself off, brushed his teeth, and then picked up his stained boxers from the floor, spelling the mess away before throwing them into the laundry basket in the corner of the bathroom. He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door, removing the Imperturbable Charm as he did so. 

“You’re up early,” Draco said, his voice still thick from sleep, as Harry re-entered the bedroom. Harry jumped- he hadn’t realised Draco was awake. “And privacy spells as well? What were _you_ doing in there?”

“Washing,” Harry replied simply. “And certainly not what you’re implying, so please stop that thought now. I didn’t want the water to wake you and Lily, that’s all.” He could imagine how pathetic he’d sound if he tried to explain the need for a shower at half past five in the morning to Draco: _Well, Draco, you know how I can’t get it up or feel arousal at the moment? Well, apparently I can come in my pants like a schoolboy whilst I’m fast asleep. Wonderful news, huh?_

“At this time in the morning? Are you sure you weren’t trying anything else?” Draco said. His voice was even but it definitely had a sharp, accusatory tone to it. 

“Yes,” Harry replied. “It was a hot night, OK? I was sweaty.” He’d nearly said sticky, but decided that would be a poor choice of vocabulary, given the circumstances. “I felt uncomfortable. Sorry I woke you.”

“Mmm. You’re all damp and naked. Come back to bed,” Draco said. 

“No. I’m up now and I need tea,” Harry said. He ignored the pang of guilt as Draco’s face fell at Harry’s refusal. “Do you want any?”

“No,” Draco replied curtly. “Thank you.”

Harry bit his lip. He knew he’d been harsh with Draco unnecessarily but just wasn’t in the mood this morning for a long discussion. Instead he quickly threw on some clothes and headed downstairs.

Draco joined him half an hour later, when Harry was already on this third cup of tea. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. Harry forced a smile.

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night,” he said. He Summoned a clean cup from the cupboard and filled it with tea, adding milk and sugar, before handing it to Draco, who accepted it with a thank you. He was well aware that Draco hadn’t believed the ‘I’m tired’ excuse for a second, but still wanted to keep what happened to himself. It was mortifying enough as it was.

Lily entered the kitchen then, dressed in a pink satin spaghetti strapped vest pyjama top edged with lace, and a matching pair of pink satin sleep shorts that only just sat below her buttocks. Pyjamas that Harry had never before laid eyes on and knew he and Draco certainly hadn’t bought her. The mystery of where Lily’s hundred Galleons had gone was unravelling quickly. 

Draco had obviously had the same train of thought as Harry.

“Lily, what on earth do you think you’re wearing?”

She looked down at her attire, then raised an eyebrow at Draco, in genuine confusion. 

“Er, pyjamas?”

“Your dad and I most certainly didn’t purchase those,” Draco said. He was frowning. “They’re practically indecent.”

“Fine,” Lily snapped. “I’ll go and put on my long sleeved fleece ones, shall I? Father, it’s boiling out there, and these are cool. That’s it.”

“They’re far too revealing,” Draco continued, evidently choosing to ignore Lily’s sarcasm. “They’re unbecoming of a Malfoy.”

“Draco, they’re only pyjamas,” Harry said. Privately he agreed they were too short, and revealed far too much, but he also knew both his and Draco’s objection to them was far less to do with the actual length of the garment and more to do with the fact it was yet further proof their little girl was growing up. And that was their problem, not Lily’s. “Let it go.”

“But…” Draco began, but Harry held up a hand.

“They’re only pyjamas,” he repeated, more firmly this time. He thought back to when he was at Hogwarts or Privet Drive when he was in his teens during the summer months. He’d slept only in his boxers. What difference was there, really, between that and what Lily was wearing now? He really didn’t want to be the type of father that never let his daughter be anything except their baby. And hadn’t he and Draco spent the last month ordering Lily to ‘become mature’ and ‘grow up’? He could practically hear Hermione’s voice in his head: _Honestly, Harry, they’re only sexual if you and Draco make them so. All the girls wear these. She’s not a little girl anymore; she’s only three years away from adulthood and you both need to respect that._ Harry knew his inner Hermione was right. 

“Fine,” Draco said, glaring at Harry. “Side with her then.” And he stormed out of the room. 

“Um, thanks, Dad,” Lily said to Harry uncertainly, as she pulled a bowl out of the cupboard and poured cornflakes into it. Harry handed her the milk. 

“Make sure you wash your bowl up when you’re done. Don’t just leave it in the sink for someone else to do,” he said, and left the room, heading to the bedroom to find Draco, ignoring Lily’s protest of: “But, Dad, you can magic it clean in a flash!”

*

Harry and Draco remained irritated with one another for the remainder of the day; Draco was annoyed with Harry because Harry had not backed him up against Lily, and Harry was annoyed with Draco because he believed Draco was overreacting. Draco had initially planned to take the day off, as Harry was at home, but in all his childishness he decided to go into work after all. So when Lily asked him if Naomi could come and stay for a few days, Harry decided to forego discussing it with Draco first and agreed. By the time Draco arrived home from St Mungo’s, tired and covered in aconite, Harry was sat at his desk in his study signing his staff’s biannual appraisals, and Lily and Naomi were sunbathing in the garden, giggling at photos of Puddlemere United’s ‘Sexy Quidditch Stars and their thick brooms’ in the latest edition of _Witch Weekly_. 

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Draco snarled as soon as he stormed into Harry’s office. “I thought we said she couldn’t visit this summer.”

“No, we agreed on no Naomi until the end of July. It’s the thirtieth,” Harry replied, as he put down his quill. “I’ve not gone back on my word. She’s going home before Friday.” On Friday Harry was having a barbeque at his house with his friends and the Weasleys, to celebrate both his and Neville’s birthdays. It was a tradition they’d started when Neville and Ginny had become engaged in 2001, and no one wanted to celebrate two separate birthdays only a day apart. 

“I’m too tired and too hot for an argument,” Draco said, peeling off sweat dampened robes and tossing them onto the back of Harry’s chair.

“Then don’t start one,” Harry retorted, voice firm but calm. Draco didn’t seem to have an answer for that, choosing instead to simply walk out of the room, for what felt to Harry like the tenth time that day. 

*

“Does it hurt?”

Harry walked past Lily’s partially opened door on his way back from the kitchen (where he’d needed a late night glass of water, and water from his wand always tasted funny), and allowed his Gryffindor curiosity, something that hadn’t ever really left him despite the fact he hadn’t been a schoolboy for over fourteen years, get the better of him. It had been Lily who had spoken.

“It did a bit at first, but Felix was gentle,” Naomi’s voice replied, and Harry’s blood ran cold. Surely they weren’t talking about what it sounded like…

“The secret is to make sure he’s got you good and wet first,” she continued, and Harry covered his face with his hands. It was exactly what it fucking sounded like. “Get him to go down on you. It’s like, super intense.”

Harry didn’t hang around to listen to the rest of the conversation. He fled. Draco looked up from his book with the same glare he’d bestowed upon Harry all evening as Harry dashed into the bedroom, and immediately the expression on his face shifted to one of concern.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, putting down his book. Harry took a deep breath. 

“OK, promise me that you’ll be calm about this. But we have a problem…”

He told Draco everything he’d overheard, and even in the dim light from the lamp on Harry’s bedside table, he could see that Draco was becoming increasingly pale. 

“Do you think she’s having _sex_?” he asked. Harry thought he sounded almost terrified. 

“No,” he said, and he meant it. “She was asking what it was, er, like.” 

“I hope this doesn’t mean she’s thinking about it,” Draco said. “Merlin’s saggy scrotum.”

Despite his fears, Harry had to smile at that. Ron’s vocabulary was beginning to rub off on his formerly well-spoken partner.

“Well, she can’t do anything whilst she’s here for the summer anyway, so there’s no immediate panic, I guess, even if she is thinking about it. I’ll ask Hermione to speak to her on Friday,” Harry said.

*

“No, Harry, I’m sorry, but this is something she needs to hear from her parents,” Hermione said on Friday afternoon. “You can’t play the ‘but I’ve got a penis’ card forever, you know. It is your responsibility- yours and Draco’s- to talk to Lily about things like this.”

The previous few days had been… difficult. Naomi had finally gone home Thursday evening (Harry having wished every minute she was here that he hadn’t allowed Lily to invite her over in the first place simply because he knew it would piss Draco off, because she’d pissed him off too). Harry’s birthday had been quiet: he’d worked during the day, where he had accepted a hideous ceramic ornamental hedgehog with as straight a face as he could manage from Isabelle, and then had a quiet dinner with Draco, Lily and Naomi in the evening. To be honest, he hadn’t been in the mood for celebrating anyway- he and Draco were still being irritable with each other, and Harry wasn’t even sure why, other than he suspected it was probably his fault this time. He knew he’d taken his frustrations out on a bewildered Draco. He’d make it up to him, Harry vowed. They’d just get through the Harry/Neville Birthday Bash (as Ron named it) first, and then they’d have a proper talk. 

“But, Hermione,” Harry said, but promptly shut up when Hermione flashed him one of Her Looks. “It’s just embarrassing, that’s all.”

“Do it now, before everyone else gets here. It’s only going to play on your mind otherwise,” Hermione said. She looked over to Ron, who was casting _Incendio_ after _Incendio_ on a pile of charcoal inside a huge barbeque. Finally the bloody thing seemed to catch light; Harry bit back a laugh as Ron yelped and dashed to the ground shouting, “ _Reducio_!” as ten-foot-high flames shot into the sky, giving the overall impression of something not so much for cooking upon, but for cremating the dead. “See, Ron has the barbecue under control.”

“No he fucking doesn’t,” Harry said, amused. “Fine, I’ll go and talk to my own daughter. It would be better coming from a woman, though.” He walked over towards Lily, who was sat on the grass reading. 

“Times like this I wish Draco was female,” he uttered to himself. A sharp intake of breath behind him forced him to turn. Draco was, of course, standing right behind him, and had evidently heard every word. Fuck.

“Nice, Harry. Thanks,” he said, sounding both hurt and angry. 

“Draco, please, I didn’t mean it like-” Harry began, but Draco had already walked off. Harry cursed himself for his own stupidity, and sat down next to Lily. He’d speak to Draco later and add this to the growing list of things he needed to apologise for, but he wanted to get his talk with Lily over and done with. 

“Hey,” he said. Lily looked up.

“Are you OK, Dad?” she asked. “You look kinda like you need to absorb a chill pill or something. Like you’re freaked at the moment.”

Harry stared blankly, trying to remember when he was fourteen. He was almost certain that he- and all his friends- were able to speak in Standard English rather than this bizarre variant which apparently only teenagers knew. 

“Um, I’m fine, Lils. But I do need to talk to you,” he said. He told her about the overheard conversation with Naomi. 

“You were _spying_ on us?” Lily accused. She folded her arms and pouted. Another expression straight from Draco. 

“Well, no, I accidentally heard,” Harry said firmly, “but perhaps now you’ll understand how Teddy and his friends felt. Not nice, is it? Look, Lily, I accept you’re growing up, OK? But fourteen is too young for, you know. Sex.”

“I’m a virgin, Dad,” Lily said, and Harry felt his cheeks flame. _Bloody Hermione._ _Isn’t talking to Lily about stuff like this in the Handbook of Godmother Responsibilities or something?_

“That’s, er, good,” he said. “And promise me you’ll stay that way. You know, until you’re, um, with someone who loves and respects you. And you’re older.” He was beginning to wonder if one of Ron’s _Incendio_ spells hadn’t hit him instead of the bloody fucking barbeque now, as he felt like his face was on fire. 

“Well, thanks for the pep talk, Dad, but I’m planning on it,” Lily said, seriously. “I happen to think Naomi is completely stupid, and Felix is a prat. She may be my best friend, but I have my own mind- I don’t do things just because she does, you know. I was just curious, that’s all. Besides, I don’t want to end up pregnant. I wouldn’t be able to play Quidditch anymore, would I? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Relief washed over Harry, and he felt himself smile. He pulled his daughter into a hug and kissed her on the head. 

“Thank you, Lily,” he said. “I love you, and I want you safe, that’s all.”

“I know. I love you too,” Lily replied.

*

Ron had finally tamed the barbeque, and had even managed to throw a link of fat, juicy sausages onto the grill, by the time Ginny and Neville arrived with their twins. The rest of the Weasleys arrived by Floo soon afterwards. Harry was surprised to see Charlie emerge from the emerald flames.

“He’s split up with Rasvan,” Ginny said in a low whisper. “Arrived back in England this morning and told Mum. Charlie was away working in the Băneasa Forest, and decided to Apparate home for the weekend and surprise him. Well, he caught Rasvan in bed with another bloke. He’s completely heartbroken.”

Harry’s heart went out to the man. Charlie and Rasvan had been together for seventeen years, and everyone considered them bonded for life. 

“Harry!” Charlie called, massive false smile on his face, as he approached them. Harry noticed immediately the bottle of beer that Charlie had only just picked up from the table was already nearly empty, and that his eyes were completely unfocussed. 

“Oh yeah,” Ginny added, as Charlie reached Harry and pulled him into a huge bear hug, “I should also have probably mentioned that he’s completely and utterly shitfaced. Sorry.”

“Hey, Charlie,” Harry said, extracting himself from the grip. “Er, do you want a sausage?”

An hour later and the garden was full of adults and small children of various ages with flaming red hair. Harry had still not managed to get Draco on his own to explain and apologise, and as he looked over at his forlorn partner, he realised that the Malfoy mask was fully in place, meaning Draco was upset. Why did he, Harry, have to keep fucking everything up? 

He allowed Lily to have a glass of the punch (“One only, and don’t think I won’t know”) and ate his lamb chop, wondering why the inventor of the barbeque thought alfresco dining consisting of foods usually consumed with cutlery was a sensible idea. Still, Ron and George were very good barbeque chefs, and the food was delicious. Harry, however, wanted the evening to be over, so he could talk to Draco properly. He finally managed to extract himself from Percy, who once again was going on about that bloody wand dossier, and headed towards Draco. 

“Hi,” he said, sitting down next to him. Draco looked at him but didn’t speak. “Look, Draco, about earlier-”

“Please, can we not do this now,” Draco interrupted. “I’m hot, and fed up, and tired, and I’m drowning in a sea of Weasleys, and I just want to sit here, OK?”

“Fine,” Harry said, defeated. He stood up. “We’ll talk later though, OK?” He touched Draco on the shoulder and gave the joint a light squeeze, before heading into the house to retrieve more beer. He stopped when he reached the kitchen. Charlie was sat at the table, very drunk, and eyes rimmed with red. He’d obviously been crying. 

“Sorry,” Harry said. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Don’t leave,” Charlie sniffed. “Since I came home, everyone is frightened to mention Rasvan’s name. Please don’t walk on eggshells around me too.”

“Want a beer?” Harry said in way of response. He fiddled with the bottle opener on the handle of the tin opener for a while then, admitting defeat, pulled out his wand and removed the top in about half a second. He handed the beer to Charlie. “I’m all ears, if you want to talk.”

For the next half an hour, Harry listened whilst Charlie poured his heart out. He learnt that it wasn’t the first time Rasvan had been unfaithful- knowledge that, he believed, the rest of the Weasleys didn’t know. He was positive, however, that Charlie had never shared the nugget of information of ‘Rasvan would never let me top’ with Molly Weasley, however, given the woman’s circulatory system appeared to still be functioning. And speaking of Molly Weasley…

“Your mum hasn’t come looking for either of us,” he said, taking a swig of his own now-warm beer. 

“She’ll know I’m talking to you. I won’t talk to anyone at The Burrow,” Charlie replied. He sniffed again, and it was a snotty sniff- the kind that sounded revolting. Harry winced and conjured him a tissue. “Thanks. Dunno if I’m talking to you ‘cause I’m pissed, or because you’re, you know, gay.”

“Bisexual,” Harry corrected automatically, then wondered why he did that, as if it mattered. 

“Have you ever cheated on Malfoy?” Charlie asked suddenly. The words came out slurred together. Harry quietly cast a charm to remove the remaining alcohol from Charlie’s drink, figuring that the redhead had consumed more than enough by now.

“No,” he replied honestly. “I think if you love someone then you respect them enough to not do that.”

“And do you let Malfoy top?”

“That’s personal, Charlie. I’m not answering that.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie slurred. “I just… oh, fuck it all. I’m forty years old, and look at me. I’m pathetic.” He put his hands over his face and began to cry again. Harry was startled. He’d comforted Lily thousands of times, he’d of course comforted Draco over the years, even Ron on occasion, but as a general rule he didn’t ‘do’ comforting, particularly of grown men to whom he wasn’t especially close. He hesitantly patted Charlie on the shoulder, which wracked with sobs. 

“You’re a good man, Harry,” Charlie said shakily. “Malfoy is lucky to have you.” Then, before Harry even had a chance to register what the fucking hell was going on, Charlie leant over and kissed him on the mouth. 

Harry froze. His brain fought furiously to catch up with the turn of events- events which seemed to consist of Charlie trying to force his tongue into Harry’s closed mouth. Finally his brain caught up and Harry gently- for Charlie was clearly drunk and not in control of himself- but firmly, pushed the other man away. 

“You’re having a tough time at the moment,” he said softly, “but I just told you not five minutes ago I’d never cheat. I’m in love with Draco, and no matter how drunk you are, or what you’re going through, I don’t appreciate you kissing me.” He aimed his wand at a small cupboard where Draco kept his brewed potions and Summoned a small phial of Sobriety Potion. “Drink this and sober up, and then I really think you need to leave.” Then he stood from his chair, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and headed back out to the garden. 

Five minutes later Charlie came out into the garden, looking terrible, but sober. 

“I’m leaving,” he said, finding Harry. “Look, Harry, I’m really sorry about that. I truly am.”

“I know,” Harry said wearily, thinking it was just another thing to add to the list of complications that was his life at the moment. “Just- go back to The Burrow and get some sleep, or something, OK? Take care of yourself, Charlie.”

“Uncle Charlie, do you love Uncle Harry now? Is that why Uncle Rasvan isn’t here?” piped up one of Ginny’s twins. Frank, Harry thought. He never had learnt to tell the difference between them. Harry noticed Hermione, who was deep in conversation with Angelina and Audrey, turn and give Charlie an appraising look. 

“No, of course I don’t,” Charlie said, in genuine surprise. 

“Oh,” said Frank, his tiny ten-year-old face screwed up in confused concentration. “So why were you two just kissing each other in the kitchen then?”

Silence fell around the immediate area. Harry closed his eyes. This wasn’t bloody well happening. Bastard little Longbottom spawn spying on him. And he would have picked the ten seconds when Charlie temporarily lost his mind to wonder in, as well. 

“Um,” Harry said, “That kiss wasn’t, I mean, it didn’t-”

“Harry,” said an icy voice behind him, and Harry’s blood ran cold. “A word. Now.” Harry turned slowly and met Draco’s eyes. His face was white with shock and fury, his quicksilver eyes sparkling with betrayal. Draco turned on his heels and walked away, clearly expecting Harry to follow, as numerous Weasleys parted to give him space. Ignoring the stares and frenzied whispering that had broken out, and feeling like the condemned man on his way to the gallows, Harry swallowed hard before he turned and followed his irate lover back into the house. 


	6. The Eye of the Storm

_Friday 2 nd August 2013, 6.30pm_

_Dear Harry,_

_Oh, where do I start? I’ve just got back to The Burrow, and Mum is biting my ear off, and… fuck, Harry, I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t kiss me back, and pushed me away before giving me a bollocking. I told everyone that at the party before I left, and I’ll tell Malfoy that, too, if you need me to. This is all my doing. I’m so bloody sorry._

_I’ve got no excuse other than I was drunk, and stupid, and didn’t even know what I was doing. I just hope in time you can forgive me._

_You probably won’t get this letter for ages. I just needed to apologise. I wish I’d just stayed in Romania now._

_Charlie._

                                                                                                *

Draco stormed into the living room without turning around to check Harry had followed. He evidently knew Harry was there. The second Harry stepped into the room, Draco aimed his wand at the door, slamming it shut. He threw up a complex Locking Charm, and Silenced the room as well for good measure. Then he turned and looked at Harry. Harry’s stomach dropped to his feet at the look; Draco looked absolutely livid.

“Explain,” he said simply, and Harry thought that, in that moment, Draco had never looked so much like Lucius Malfoy.

“Er, well, I went to get beers, and Charlie was at the table crying, and we talked for a bit, then he kissed me, but I pushed him straight off and gave him a Sobriety Potion,” Harry babbled. “I didn’t kiss him back, I swear!”

“It’s been over three months since we had sex, I overhear you muttering to yourself that you wish I was a woman, and now you’ve been caught kissing Charlie fucking Weasley,” Draco yelled, carrying on as if he hadn’t heard a single word Harry said. “Can you not see the _slight_ problem we have here?”

“I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me!” Harry shouted back. He noticed Draco had not yet pocketed his wand from when they entered the room; on the contrary, in fact. He had the length of hawthorn pointed straight at Harry. “I pushed him away, and I didn’t kiss him! And as for the wishing you were female thing, Draco- it’s all blown out of context. What I meant was-”

“ _Legilimens_!”

Harry reeled in shock as Draco’s spell hit. His Occlumency skills had greatly improved since Voldemort’s defeat and, whilst he was certainly no Snape, he was competent in a way in which was fitting for the Head of the Auror Office. However, instead of immediately blocking Draco as his instincts screamed at him to do, as Draco began to tear through his mind, he forced himself to keep eye contact and let Draco have free access. He showed Draco his devastation at not being able to achieve an erection and the wet dream from a few mornings ago, and his fierce love for him that had never once wavered in over fourteen years. He let Draco see Harry’s tears from Butser Hill, the night the Yohimbe Potion had failed. He pushed the events with Charlie to the forefront of his mind, ensuring Draco saw exactly what had happened- the conversation about infidelity, Harry pushing Charlie away, and telling him he would never cheat.

And most of all, he made sure Draco saw exactly how completely and utterly furious Harry was that Draco had forced his way into his mind completely without Harry’s consent. Harry had had enough; he threw up his Occlumency shields and pushed Draco’s presence out of his mind.

Now it was his turn to be mad.

“I can’t believe that, after all this time, you don’t believe a single fucking thing I say, and you believed you had the right to do that to me,” Harry said, his voice eerily calm, because he thought if he didn’t control its volume now he would shout and shout and would probably never stop. “What, Draco? Forcing yourself on me physically didn’t work, so you decided to rape my mind instead, is that it?”

Draco winced as if harry had slapped him and turned incredibly white.

“Harry, don’t,” he barely whispered.

“Don’t what, Draco?” Harry replied. “Don’t be mad with you for ploughing through my mind? Draco, you know what Voldemort did to me, how he violated my mind. What I suffered, what he forced me to see.  What gives you the right to behave like him and abuse my mind like that?”

Draco didn’t reply. Harry noticed that the earlier anger on Draco’s face had gone, replaced with a look of devastation instead.

“I wish you’d just have listened to me,” he continued. “I wish that you trusted me. But apparently, you don’t. Because that’s the issue here, Draco. If you trusted me, then you’d have known I’d never kiss Charlie.” A huge lump had formed his his throat now, to match the tell-tale sparkling of tears in Draco’s eyes. “And I have to say, I can’t believe we’ve reached the stage where you think so badly of me that you believe I’d do that to you.”

Draco blinked then, and a huge tear slipped wetly down his cheek. He bit his lip.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sorry for what, Draco? Sorry for abusing my mind, or for not trusting me? Would you like to give me a shot of Veritaserum? That way you can really know that what I’m telling you is true.”

Draco’s shoulders began to shake with the effort of controlling his emotions. Harry could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times he’d seen Draco cry over the years, and the obvious distress on his face, and oddly this calmed Harry more than anything else at this moment.

“I know you didn’t kiss Weasley,” Draco said finally.

“Because you saw it in my mind. Not because you actually believed me when I told you I didn’t,” Harry retorted. “And that’s the part about all this that really fucking hurts me.”

“I do trust you,” Draco replied. “I don’t know why I did that, or what came over me. I really am sorry.”

They were quiet for a long period, where both struggled to rein in their emotions. “What’s happening to us?” Draco said through a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied wearily. He removed his glasses and wiped the back of his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“I just- ever since, you know, _the problem_ , we’ve been tense with each other,” Draco said. “And I can’t help but think this is totally what I   
deserve.”

Harry looked at him. He said nothing, choosing instead to wait for Draco to explain.

“This is the payback for what I did,” Draco said. “Being a Death Eater, I mean. I got off with a year’s probation, I got you, I got Lily, and I got the faerie tale Happily Ever After. Maybe this is the punishment I should have received in the first place.”

“What a load of bollocks,” Harry snapped. “Excuse me if I don’t attend the Draco Malfoy Pity Party, won’t you, but what a load of melodramatic shit! All couples go through difficult times, Draco, all of them. And I did owe you an apology for the last few days, which I tried to give you earlier, and was going to give you tonight. And in fact, if you’d bothered to listen to me, instead of all but telling me to piss off earlier, I would have sat and talked with you instead of going into the kitchen and talking to Charlie. But, no, everything has to be about how _you_ feel, what _you_ want, how it affects _you_. Well, I’m sick of it, Draco.”

To Harry’s surprise, Draco smiled a little at that. It was a small, sad smile.

“Imagine if I hadn’t have had sex with Pansy in the Room of Requirement,” he said. His voice was emotionless, and it scared Harry more than anything else that evening so far. “Where would we be now? As in, us, as a couple.”

“I… um,” Harry said. Draco nodded sadly.

“Exactly. Harry, we’d have finished school, and probably crossed paths occasionally, in the Ministry or whatnot. We’d never have been friends, and we certainly wouldn’t have formed a relationship. You’d probably have married some woman, had a bunch of kids, and had a normal, easy life. I stopped you doing that. It was a series of flukes that drew us together. Perhaps us not being able to have a physical relationship is the Universe correcting its mistake.”

Harry wondered when they’d stopped arguing about the not- kiss with Charlie, and had got back onto- yet again- the fact that Harry was experiencing sexual dysfunction at the moment, before deciding that this whole fucking argument had its roots in it. It kept coming back to that time and time again. It was the reason why Draco was doubting them, doubting Harry, doubting himself even. He felt just as confused and scared as Harry did. And Harry had never hated his problem more than he did right then.

“Don’t talk like that,” he seethed. “Don’t you ever imply that we were a mistake, or that you somehow stopped me having the life I ‘should’ have had. That Lily was a mistake! That the two best things in my life somehow need ‘correcting’! You didn’t turn me gay, or bi, or whatever other nonsense you’re implying. I’d have figured out I’m attracted to men as well as women eventually, even if we hadn’t ended up together, and who’s to say I wouldn’t have fallen in love with a man instead of a woman? This is one problem, Draco, that we can fucking well work through, OK? I won’t let you give up on us. Because your Slytherin sense of flight rather than fight might be taking over right about now, but you clearly forgot about me. And I will not let you go until I’ve fought for us with everything I have and there is nothing left for me to give.”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but there was a heavy knocking at the door, and he closed his mouth again.

“It’s me,” Ron’s voice called through the door. “Can you open the door?”

Harry drew his wand and reversed Draco’s complex locking spells and Silencing Charm, and the door flew open.

“What the fuck do you want, Weasley?” Draco snapped, wand pointed at him. Harry guessed that Draco wasn’t too fond of anybody with red hair at the moment. “We’re busy.”

Ron didn’t so much flinch at his harsh tone or the wand aimed at his chest.

“I just wanted you both to know,” he said, his voice calm, “that everyone has left except Hermione and me, and that Lily is currently curled up in Hermione’s arms, sobbing her heart out and believing that her dads hate each other and are going to split up.”

 “Fuck,” Draco muttered. “OK, we’re coming.”

“Er, you’re not, are you? Splitting up, I mean?” Ron said uneasily to Draco. “’Cause Charlie told everyone what happened, and we all know it’s my dickhead brother’s fault, not Harry’s, which means this would be a really shitty thing to break up over.”

Harry looked over at Draco, who had- finally- pocketed his wand. It was clearly a look of questioning. Perhaps even pleading. Draco took a huge breath, which he let back out slowly.

“No,” he said eventually, answering Ron’s question but looking directly into Harry’s eyes, “no, of course we’re not splitting up.” The relief that crashed over Harry was almost dizzying.

“Tell Lily we’re coming,” Harry said pointedly to Ron, who took the hint and, grinning, walked out of the room. Harry immediately walked over to Draco.

“We can’t keep on fighting like this,” he said, as he pulled Draco close to him, holding tightly. The grip from Draco’s own arms around him in return was just as tight. “And we do still need to talk- properly talk, without yelling at each other. But I love you, you stupid, idiotic, self-centred prat, OK?” Then he pulled Draco into a fiery, passionate, but brief kiss that left them both slightly breathless. “But never, ever, try to use Legilimency against me again. I mean that.”

Then, together, with their hands joined, they left the living room and went to speak to their daughter.

                                                                                                *

“…and you’re not splitting up?”

“No, Lily bud, we’re not,” Draco soothed. Lily’s head was rested in Harry’s lap, her feet curled into Draco’s, and her eyes were red. Her breath had taken on that involuntary shudder that often follows heavy crying, and Harry thought that, for the first time in over a year, she looked like a child again. Lily gripped Draco’s hand tightly.

“I know I’ve been difficult,” Lily said. “I know I’ve probably made things worse, with getting suspended from school and everything. I’m really sorry.”

“Lily,” Harry said, “this is _not_ your fault, you hear me? Your father and I just have a few private issues we’re working through at the moment, OK? But remember that we love each other, and we love you. I won’t deny I could have lived perfectly happily without you getting excluded from school, but that wasn’t the reason we had a fight. _You’re_ not the reason, alright? Never think that.”

She smiled weakly at them and tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn, the events of the previous hour obviously having drained her. It was still only early-ish evening; the sun was beginning to set now, and had left a beautiful golden- pink sunset in its wake.  Ron and Hermione had left Harry and Draco alone with Lily to talk about twenty minutes previously, Flooing home with Rose and Hugo. The garden was a mess; empty beer bottles and cans of Muggle fizzy drinks were sprawled out across the grass, as were paper plates and plastic cutlery and various half-eaten items of barbecued food: evidence of the Weasleys’ desperation to leave following Ginny’s son’s announcement as quickly as they could, as they’d never leave this sort of mess usually.

“Go and have a bath, then get an early night,” Draco said to Lily, drawing his wand. “Your dad and I have to spend some time putting things right again.” Harry didn’t think he meant just the garden. Lily nodded and climbed off her fathers, gave them both a huge kiss on the cheek and a tight hug, and headed into the house. Harry watched her go, then drew his wand and began assisting Draco in a series of Cleaning and Vanishing Charms which returned the garden to its former neatness.

“I’m going to the Manor with Lily next week,” Draco announced suddenly, as he flicked his wand and an empty can of lemonade Vanished.

Every year, at the beginning of August, Lily would spend a week with Lucius and Narcissa at Malfoy Manor. She had done since she was four and old enough to spend more than the occasional night away from her parents. Harry and Draco, however, always remained behind, apart from the odd Floo trip to check she was OK throughout the week. In the ten years Lily had been visiting her grandparents like this, Draco had never once gone and stayed with his parents with her. Harry stopped Scourgifying the patio table and swallowed nervously.

“I thought you said- I mean, we’ve just told Lily-”

“We’re not splitting up,” Draco interrupted, accurately guessing Harry’s train of thought. “But we’re tense around each other at the moment, and I think a week apart will do us both some good. Time for us each to think, properly, without the other one there.” Harry clearly didn’t look at all convinced, for he was suddenly engulfed in Draco’s arms. “I told you I loved you, and I meant it. I’m not running from us, I promise. I just need some time on my own to get my head around everything.”

“OK,” Harry replied, and his voice was barely audible. Draco tilted Harry’s chin up with a finger and kissed him.

“It’s only a week,” he said.

Harry thought it was going to be the longest seven days of his life.

                                                                                                *

Harry said goodbye to Draco and Lily as they travelled by Floo to the Manor early on Monday morning, then took a quick shower, threw on his Auror robes, and Apparated to the Ministry. He was over an hour early for work, but Harry needed the distraction. Due to his much earlier than usual arrival, Harry was surprised to see that Isabelle was already at her desk, wearing yet another hideous outfit (today she was wearing a checked button-up shirt and pink rah-rah skirt).

“Good morning, Head Auror Potter,” she said in her usual meek voice. “You’re keen this morning. Did you have a good weekend?”

“No,” Harry replied bluntly. “I’m going to be out of the office with Auror Weasley most of the day. Auror Matthews will be in charge of the trainees this morning.”

“Is everything OK?” Isabelle said timidly, her huge eyes even wider than usual. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” Harry snapped. Then, deciding that he really didn’t want to be in the office at all, and that whatever post came over the weekend requiring his attention could bloody well wait a few hours longer, turned back on his heels and headed for Ron’s cubicle, hoping Ron was already in work. Harry had received an emergency owl the previous evening informing him that another patient had been taken ill and admitted to St Mungo’s after taking a potion containing suspected illegal dragon’s blood, and Harry and Ron were off to interview her and her husband that morning.

He was distracted as he made his way to Ron’s cubicle, thinking about Isabelle’s question. He and Draco had spent the weekend talking, not really coming to any definite resolutions, but agreeing on the major, most crucial, point: that they loved each other and wanted to be together, and that the rest they could work out as they went along. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was a start, and Harry did feel that they’d managed to clear the air a bit between them.

“…Harry!”

Harry jumped. He was surprised to see he’d reached Ron’s desk, and the man was clearly trying to get his attention.

“Er, sorry, Ron,” he said. “Miles away. Good, you’re here already. Um, are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was trying to say to you, moron,” Ron said.

“Less of the ‘moron’ and more of the ‘boss’,” Harry joked, and Ron laughed appreciatively. Ron had initially been very jealous of Harry when Harry was promoted to Head of the Auror Office, particularly as this did mean that Harry was now Ron’s boss, but once Ron had seen the amount of paperwork the job involved, not to mention the additional working hours and stress, he’d congratulated Harry and told him he was welcome to the job with his blessing.

With a final ‘goodbye’ to Isabelle, accompanied by a, “what in the name of Godric’s gonads is your batty secretary wearing this time?” from Ron, the pair hurried quickly to the Atrium and Apparated to St Mungo’s.

“Charlie wet back to Romania this morning,” Ron said, as they made their way up to the third floor, Potions and Plant Poisoning. Harry made a non-committal  ‘hmmm’ sound. He really didn’t want to talk about Charlie bloody Weasley at the moment; drunk or not, the man had behaved appallingly. The letter he’d sent Harry had ended up _Incendio_ -ed by Draco about thirty seconds after it had arrived on Friday night. “Anyway, Mum and Dad are furious with him, and Charlie has kind of gone back in disgrace. It’s not going to be weird with you and the rest of my family, is it?”

“No, Ron,” Harry said honestly. “Course not. I’m not too keen on seeing Charlie any time soon though, I must admit.”

“So, er, did Malfoy and Lily get off OK this morning?” Ron asked with fake casualness, Harry knew the real question Ron was asking.

“We’ll be OK,” Harry said, answering the unasked question. “We spent a lot of the weekend just talking and stuff. We’ll work it out.”

“Make sure you do,” Ron said seriously. “’Cause as much as at one point this seemed ludicrous, I’ve grown quite fond of that ferret twat over the years. And, you know, I don’t want my best mate all sad and stuff.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said, pushing open the door to the ward, where the person who, it was believed, was Wyatt’s latest victim was located.

An hour later and Harry and Ron emerged from the ward grinning and armed with a load of information, including details about a possible new location for Wyatt. The victim, a Mrs Gloryhole (both Harry and Ron had both struggled desperately not to snigger like juveniles when addressing her), had been extremely talkative. An elderly lady in her eighties, a retired antiquarian bookseller and with no previous records for any criminal activity, she had brought the dragon’s blood in good faith, believing it was from a reputable seller, and was about as keen to see Wyatt thrown into Azkaban as Harry was. Indeed, she’d been quite outspoken about that. In fact, Harry was quite certain he’d never heard language like that come from someone of her age before. And he’d certainly learnt some new derogatory words for men participating in the act of masturbation.

He and Ron grabbed a quick bite in the hospital’s tea shop, then Apparated to Liverpool docks. Mrs Gloryhole had insisted that Wyatt had spoken with a strong liverpudlian accent- information which was vital for Harry, as it contradicted other witnesses, who were sure he spoke with a London accent- and had told him that a shipment was coming in ‘soon’ to the docks near where he lived: evidence that, when combined, pointed strongly to the Merseyside port as being the intended import destination this time. Harry’s instincts were telling him the old lady was right and that she had heard his true voice; Wyatt obviously thought he was dealing with a frail and possibly senile old dear, rather than the intelligent, strong-minded individual she actually was, and had let his guard slip around her.

Ron took watch of the docks whilst Harry went to speak with the Harbour Master- a jolly, rotund Muggle in his fifties with a greying beard, who kept referring to Harry as ‘Chief Inspector Potter’, and was very co-operative in allowing Harry access to the confidential record books. A ship from New Zealand- the same country as last time Harry intercepted the contraband goods- was due to arrive the following day. Harry thanked the man, cast a subtle Memory Charm to remove all traces of the conversation from the Muggle’s mind, and went to find Ron.

“There’s a ship coming in from New Zealand tomorrow,” he said, casting a few wards that would let him know immediately if anyone with a magical signature approached the area. “Let’s head back to the Ministry. I need to get a team together. This has been going on long enough- I want that bastard desperately now.” With a small ‘crack’, that caused the poor Harbour Master to jump, they Disapparated. Once back at the Ministry, Harry called a meeting and selected a team of Aurors to accompany him tomorrow.

“The ship is due to dock at five in the morning,” he said, and the team groaned. Harry rolled his eyes. Since when was being an Auror a nine to five job? “So I want you all present for three. Is that clear?”

“Yes, boss,” the Aurors chorused, slightly sullenly.

“Good. And because I’m not Robards, and I’m quite nice really, you can all leave now, despite the fact it’s only two in the afternoon. You’ve all got an early start tomorrow, so use your free time wisely,” Harry said. “Dismissed.”

He’d been the Head of the Auror Office for nearly six years now; the youngest Head in living memory. And he still felt awkward giving orders and being called ‘boss’.

“I’m going home early too,” Harry said to Isabelle. “I doubt I’ll be here much before lunchtime tomorrow.”

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Isabelle asked. Harry was sure he wasn’t imagining the fact that Isabelle had undone two buttons at the top of her hideous shirt, exposing a hint of… not cleavage, exactly, for a woman needed to have breasts larger than two fried eggs for that, but definitely something that Harry didn’t want to see. “I can cook you something nice, ready for your early start in the morning.”

“I really don’t,” Harry said, before realising he had possibly been harsher than he needed to be when he saw the crestfallen expression on his secretary’s face. “Er, thanks for the offer though.”

He Apparated home, turning down Ron’s invitation to spend the afternoon with him and Hermione with considerably more politeness, and returned to his house, which felt far too large without Draco and Lily. He toyed with the idea of simply Flooing to Malfoy Manor, but he was trying to prove to Draco that he respected his wishes, and Draco had been adamant that he thought a week apart would help them. Instead he spent the rest of the day catching up on paperwork and surfing the internet. At dinnertime he ordered a pizza online (one of the major advantages of living in a Muggle area; even if his house did have a Floo and other items he was certain his neighbours didn’t have), and spent the evening with Teddy, who had popped over to keep him company, eating and watching the third Ashes Test on the telly. He’d developed a love of cricket a few years back during his early career as an Auror and a few of the Muggle-born recruits took him to a Twenty20 match at the Rose Bowl. Draco couldn’t stand it, and Ron didn’t understand it, but he and Teddy soaked it up.

Teddy eventually returned to Andromeda’s, and Harry turned in for the night. Well, ‘night’ was pushing it, because it was only eight in the evening, August, and therefore there was bright sunlight flooding into his room, despite the fact he’d closed the curtains.

And if Harry was totally honest, the lack of darkness wasn’t the only reason he couldn’t sleep. He’d managed to keep himself busy practically all day, but he really missed Draco. He considered taking a phial of Sleeping Draught, but decided against it, as he wasn’t guaranteed to hear his alarm if he did that. Eventually Harry fell asleep; a restless sleep with a strange dream involving Draco turning Charlie into a ferret, and darkness fell over his bedroom.

                                                                                                *

His alarm buzzed at two, and Harry swore loudly as he was roused from sleep. He dragged himself into the bathroom and showered quickly, which had the desired effect of waking him up. Then he downed a quick cup of coffee and Apparated to Liverpool docks.

Ron and about half the Aurors were already present. Within ten minutes of his arrival, all the team was in place, and Harry ordered them all to Disillusion themselves and position themselves in pairs around the dock. There was, of course, no guarantee that Wyatt would show up, but his instinct was prickling, as much as it had the previous day when he’d believed Mrs Gloryhole’s lone testament which was in direct contradiction with the numerous other witnesses’ ones. He could feel that today was the day they would make a breakthrough.

The sky had taken on the merest hint of pink in an otherwise blanket of navy, when Harry felt a shimmer in the wards he’d erected just over twelve hours previously. He held his breath in anticipation as a figure he recognised walked across a jetty. Wyatt had arrived.  Out across the River Mersey, Harry could make out the silhouette of an incoming ship. He licked his lips. He’d ordered the Aurors not to advance on Wyatt until the ship had docked and he had the illegal cargo in his possession; after all, they had no evidence against him without that.

It was another hour before the ship finally docked. The port was busy with both Muggle workers and holiday-makers boarding a cruise liner now, and Harry sighed. He’d warned the Obliviators beforehand that they would more than likely be needed today, and it looked like he was going to be right. It was fully light now; the early morning sunlight sparkled like diamonds on the surface of the Mersey. And there… yes! Wyatt had entered the ship. Harry could make out the faint shimmer that indicated Ron’s Disillusionment Charm next to the open entrance of the cargo ship. He smiled in a satisfied way and carefully erected the Anti-Disapparition Jinx around the entire dock. Harry wasn’t going to let Wyatt get away this time.

Eventually Wyatt emerged from the ship, and Harry recognised the mokeskin pouch around his neck as similar to the one he owned and treasured, that Hagrid had given him so many years ago. It didn’t take a genius to work out what was inside it. They were going to get the bastard.

_Go!_ he thought  to himself. _C’mon, Ron, you’re nearest!_ Then, as if Ron read his mind, a Stunner came as if from nowhere and slammed into Wyatt, who stumbled backwards, his eyes huge and surprised, before Auror Murray, whom Ron had partnered, shot a perfectly-aimed Full Body-Bind, causing Wyatt to fall stiffly to the ground.

“Fuck! Aurors!” a voice shouted, and Harry spun around, wand pointing in the direction of the noise, just as flashes of light of all colours began peppering the early dawn air. He could hear confused and terrified Muggles screaming but he didn’t have time to concern himself with them at the moment; Kingsley had given him clearance for this mission due to the risk Wyatt posed to the wizarding population. He spotted the accomplices then; two burly men and a slim blonde woman, all with wands drawn, were trying in vain to Disapparate whilst firing random spells. He sent Stunners of his own at them, but they missed by millimetres.

“That one came from other there!” one of the burly men called, and Harry froze. He was so focussed on not giving his position away to the three that he failed to notice the presence of the fourth accomplice; one who had clearly noticed the shimmer from his own Disillusionment Charm. He felt the excruciating pain, however, when their spell hit home, and recognised it immediately as the Cruciatus Curse. He tried to remain silent, but couldn’t- a shout of agony burst from his lips.

“I got one! He’s right here!” came a voice- another female, Harry noted. It was, however, the last thing he noticed before he felt the Disillusionment Charm being forcibly lifted from him, a male voice cry out, “Merlin, it’s only fucking _Harry_ _Potter_!” before another spell hit him, and his entire world went black.

                                                                                                *

“You could have just said you couldn’t live without me for a week. You didn’t need to take such dramatic measures to get me by your side, you know. Only one day apart, and you end up in here.”

Harry stirred groggily as he came to, aware that Draco was holding his hand and talking to him.

“Hey,” he croaked. His voice sounded raspy, and he suddenly became aware of how thirsty he felt. “Water.”

Draco picked up a water jug from the table and poured Harry a glass. He handed him the water, then reached for Harry’s glasses, slipping them onto his face for him. Harry made a sound of gratitude then drank deeply. Only once he’d drained the glass did it register he was in St Mungo’s, and the memories of the skirmish at Liverpool docks came flooding back.

“Before you say anything, Weasley arrested Wyatt, the rest of your team got the four accomplices, and you’re the only idiot who got hurt,” Draco said. “Oh, and forty Muggles had to be Obliviated, plus the whole thing made the front page of the _Liverpool Echo_. Well done, Head Auror.”

“Thanks,” Harry said drily. “Um, Draco, how long was I…”

“Unconscious? Four days. It’s Saturday,” Draco said. “That curse was nasty, plus the Cruciatus was no picnic either. You fucking dickhead,” he added, and despite the fact he was in hospital, with a pounding headache, and may or may not have been completely incompetent at Liverpool docks, Harry couldn’t help grin. When Draco reduced to petty name-calling, it meant he was truly worried about him. And that was what mattered right now.

“We’ve got Wyatt,” he said triumphantly.

“No, Weasley got him. You, on the other hand, got cursed and ended up unconscious for the best part of a week,” Draco drawled. “Prick.” Then he leant over and kissed Harry soundly.

A small cough from the back of the room pulled them apart.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said a Healer, “but I really need to examine my patient. How are you feeling, Mr Potter?”

“Fine. Bit sore I guess,” Harry replied, as the Healer began performing a series of spells over him. “What was I hit with?”

“The Sleeping Beauty Curse,” the Healer replied. “If untreated within an hour, it puts the victim into a permanent and irreversible sleep. Luckily you were brought here within minutes of the spell hitting and we were able to perform the counter-spells swiftly, but it still took several days to rouse you. However, you’re clear of it now. There are no other spells upon you at all.”

“Can I go home?” Harry asked hopefully. Draco tutted and rolled his eyes, and the Healer chuckled lightly.

“You’ve been awake all of ten minutes,” she said. “Let’s leave it a little longer before we talk about going home, shall we?” She pointed her wand at the chart at the end of Harry’s bed, which automatically filled with information. “I’ll tell your daughter and friends they can come in now, if you like, but do not allow them to excite you. You still need to rest, Mr Potter.”

An hour later, after Lily had all but jumped on Harry and squeezed the air from his body, and Hermione had finished telling him off (“For Heaven’s sake, Harry, you assigned every single Auror there a partner except yourself, you could have been _killed_!”), and Ron had described in minute detail Wyatt’s arrest and confession under Veritaserum, Harry had to conclude that the Healer had been right, and he probably wasn’t ready for home yet; he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He eventually heard Draco’s voice, ordering everyone out (“Yes, Lily, even you, he’s going to be fine and you need to eat and sleep too”), then completely ignoring his own advice to Lily and taking Harry’s hand. As Harry finally passed into sleep, he was sure he heard Draco say, “Never frighten me like that again,” before the blackness once again claimed him.

                                                                                                *

Harry ended up staying another week in hospital before he was declared fit to leave. He was signed off work until the end of August, which he couldn’t find in himself to object to; he took as much time off as he could over the school holidays, but he hated it when Lily had to spend the day with Molly, Narcissa or Andromeda instead of him and Draco whilst they were at work. He didn’t see enough of her as it was, now she was at Hogwarts.

He popped into work briefly to collect a few personal items and speak with Kingsley. He also received a horrible card from Isabelle, which had a rather disturbing image of a Kneazle lying on the floor with a partially amputated front paw dripping blood and the caption, “You’ll be back on your feet in no time!” in scarlet letters. Inside she’d written:

_To my brave and courageous Head Auror Potter,_

_Wishing you a speedy recovery. Should you require assistance with bed-baths, you need only owl me._

_Your devoted secretary,_

_Isabelle Honeycutt._

Harry had thanked her, before tossing the card into the nearest bin on his way back to the Floo in the Atrium. Then he stepped into the Floo and was whisked away from work, for two whole weeks away from the place.     

                                                                                                *

The remainder of August slipped by alarmingly quickly, Harry felt, and soon it was merely days until the first of September, when Lily would return to Hogwarts and the house would once again be far too clean and quiet. Still, Harry was hoping that Lily’s fourth year would be a lot calmer than her third: particularly the dramatic and rather abrupt end she’d had to the previous academic year. He was also worried; Lily had provided a convenient excuse over the last almost-three months as to why he and Draco couldn’t attempt sex; she was always too close, too awake, or it just didn’t feel ‘right’. With Lily back at school, it would just be the two of them. Make or break time, Harry thought to himself wryly.

 “Gods, Harry, yes,” Draco gasped in the shower they’d decided to take together, once Lily was sound asleep, two days before the start of the new school year. It hadn’t meant to progress further, but as Draco became hard whilst Harry was massaging shampoo into his scalp, he really couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. They were now both wet and soapy, and Harry’s limp cock was nestled in the crack of Draco’s arse, whilst his hand was closed around Draco’s erection, sliding back and forth furiously whilst Draco gasped and panted and his knees trembled. Harry was frustrated beyond belief and more than a little jealous, wanting nothing more than to be hard and slide inside Draco, fucking him against the cool tiles whilst the hot shower spray pounded them, until Draco could barely remember even his own name.

He tried not to resent Draco for this: his ability to get hard and aroused, and be able to come, but it was difficult, particularly as in that moment Draco inhaled sharply, whimpered, and painted the tiles with his release. But a one-sided sex life was slowly driving Harry to insanity. He wanted sex. He mentally desired sex. So why the fucking hell couldn’t he _have_ sex? A couple of days ago had marked four months. One hundred and twenty-three days, since he’d managed any sort of sexual activity. Surely his body couldn’t maintain itself like this indefinitely? Thankfully, Harry had not had any more wet dreams, but instead of becoming used to the situation, as he thought he would have by now, it had only become more and more frustrating for him. He returned Draco’s post-coital kiss with effort, refusing to let his lover see that he was less than happy with the events, and forced down the negative feelings, allowing instead the far better image of watching Draco reach his orgasm fill his mind instead. It was a pleasant memory, certainly, but Harry wondered how long he’d be able to continue to satisfy Draco in this way. It wasn’t a thought he particularly wanted to have.

“Amazing, Harry,” Draco said breathlessly. He looked down, where Harry’s completely uninterested cock was hanging uselessly between this thighs. “I just wish that-”

“I know,” Harry said, interrupting before Draco could say what Harry was already thinking. It was always worse, somehow, coming from Draco, like Harry was letting him down or something. “Let’s go to bed, shall we?”

Lily was jittery in the morning when they got up.

“I don’t wanna go back to school tomorrow,” she said sullenly, ignoring the bacon sandwich Harry had placed in front of her.

“Lily, you’ve been home for nearly three months,” Harry reasoned, “and we’ve loved having you home, and are going to miss you more than you’ll know, but you need to go back to school, OK? Hermione’s a great teacher, but it’s all theory-based. You need to be where you can perform magic again. Plus I’m back to work on Monday. And surely you’ve missed Naomi?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Lily said, taking a bite of her bacon sandwich. “Plus I get Quidditch again. And I s’pose I get to stare at Professor Govan again, don’t I? He’s taking over as Head of Slytherin this year too.” Harry looked over at Draco, who was pointedly reading the _Daily Prophet_ whilst drinking coffee, completely leaving the conversation to Harry.  Harry rolled his eyes but took the conversation no further. Lily was suddenly in a better mood, and that was fine with him.

“And Teddy…”

“Dad, I’m over Teddy,” Lily said, which did surprise Harry. Even Draco put down the paper at that. “Naomi said he was ‘emotionally immature’ and that he didn’t deserve me, and I agree with her, so I’ve decided to move on. Plus, Wayne Brixey, the Ravenclaw Seeker, is well fit.”

“’Wayne’?” Draco said, finally putting down the paper, a look of disgust on his face. “You actually want to date somebody called Wayne?”

“It’s not Teddy, so that’s fine with me,” Harry said happily. “Come on, Lily, we’d better pack your trunk. We’ve got lunch at The Burrow and dinner at Andromeda’s with your grandparents today, remember? You won’t have time to pack later.”

Lily groaned but did as she was told. In fact, she had done such a good job that Harry took pity on her after a while and packed the remaining items for her in about three seconds with a casual flick of his wand. It was symbolic, packing her things. Like she was removing all trace of herself from their lives for four months until Christmas. Harry swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. As a child, he’d counted down the days until it was time for him to leave the Dursleys and return to school. But of course, then he hadn’t loved someone so fiercely that it felt as if part of himself was missing when they weren’t there. It had only been once he’d become a parent that he’d truly appreciated just how much he’d been a victim of neglect as a child.

Lunch at the Weasleys was slightly awkward, but pleasant enough. Molly had cooked enough to feed an entire army, and all the Weasley kids plus Lily and Teddy who were off to Hogwarts were present. Ginny and Neville’s twin boys had turned eleven mid-August so they were starting too; Ginny had apologised profusely for Frank’s revelation at the barbeque, but Harry just didn’t have it in him to blame the boy. He was only a child- innocent in his eyes.

In total there were seven of the family’s kids off to school- Teddy being the eldest (who’d be starting his fifth year), followed by Lily and Victoire, then Fred the Second (as George called him), Frank and Jack, and, lastly, Dominique, Bill and Fleur’s second daughter, who was also starting for the first time. After Molly had clung to all the children in turn, sobbing, and told them all that she was going to be ‘empty’ inside (at which point George told his mum off for being so melodramatic, and pointed out she never behaved like that whenever any of her own children went off to school), Harry rescued Lily and Teddy from her clutches and travelled by Floo to Andromeda’s house, for the goodbye dinner with the Malfoys.

Harry and Narcissa had a formed wonderful relationship over the years and were extremely comfortable with one another, but he and Lucius had just never managed to cross that line. There was far too much tainted history between them to extend further than a stiff handshake and addressing each other as ‘Mr Potter’ and ‘Mr Malfoy’. Still, it was a pleasant evening filled with laughter and games, and by the time Harry, Draco and Lily arrived home, Lily was almost asleep.

“Bed,” Draco said. “Come on, Lily bud, it’s a busy day tomorrow.” She didn’t protest and, once she was sound asleep, Harry and Draco collapsed into their own bed, exhausted.

“I hate it when she leaves for school,” Harry said, curled on his side. “I’m going to really miss her.”

“Me, too,” Draco replied. “She belongs at Hogwarts though.”

“I know. Doesn’t make it any easier for us though.”

“Night, Harry,” Draco said, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Sleep well.”

Harry knew, however, that- despite his tiredness- he wouldn’t. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, hoping that the morning wouldn’t arrive too quickly, and that he’d get to keep Lily at home with him, just for a little bit longer.

 


	7. The, er, Climax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the story. Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you like it.

_A/N: This is the final chapter to this story. Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

**Chapter Seven: The, er, Climax**

_Monday 2_ _nd_ _September 2013_

_Dear Draco,_

_Well, I've done some hard things in my life, but writing this letter is about the hardest of all. And to be honest, I don't even know where to begin._

_Draco, I'm sorry. I just can't do this anymore. I thought I could, but I can't. I refuse to be the one who stops you from having a normal, sexual relationship with someone. And to be perfectly honest with you, these last few months have literally been hell. I think we have to accept that we're just not working, and to finish our relationship now, before we start to hate each other._

_I wanted to wait until Lily was back at school to make this easier for her, and now she's back it's time to end this charade. I've extended my leave at work and I'm going away for a few weeks. We'll discuss it properly when I get back, if we need to, and work out what we're going to do about Lily._

_I will never regret you, or Lily, and part of me will always love you. But I just can't keep lying to myself, or to you. This is just not going to work._

_Thank you for fourteen wonderful years. Be happy, Draco._

_Harry._

_PS- tell Ron, Hermione and Lily that I'm sorry, and that I'll write to them soon._

The Ministry owl hooted dolefully as the letter was tied securely around its leg. It cocked its head once, looking directly at Harry almost in puzzlement, then took flight out of the Auror Office window.

* * *

**Wait, what? Back up for a second there…**

_The previous day:_

"Lily! Hurry up!" Draco called up the stairs. "We'll hit traffic and miss the train if you're not downstairs in the next two minutes!"

A loud, incoherent complaint was the only response, followed by the _thunk thunk thunk_ as Lily began to drag her trunk downstairs. Harry smiled slightly and, taking pity on his obviously struggling daughter, flicked his wand at the trunk, levitating it down the remaining stairs. Lily shot him a grateful look.

Unfortunately, it wasn't possible to load the trunk into the car with magic, in case any neighbours happened to be looking at them. So he and Draco took a side each and loaded it into the boot of their Ford Focus.

Harry had learnt to drive the Muggle vehicle when Lily was a toddler. He hardly ever actually drove a car- trips to King's Cross and other Muggle-inhabited places being about the extent of it- and if he was honest, he didn't much like driving. Now he thought about it, he didn't like any methods of travel really, with the exception of flying on his broomstick. Apparition, Floo, Knight Bus, Portkey, car… they all left him feeling slightly sick and disorientated.

Finally the trunk was loaded, Lily was in the back with Phoebe locked securely in her cage, and Draco was in the front wearing the look of mild panic he always had every time they had to travel by car, and they'd set off on the five-minute journey to collect Teddy and Andromeda. By the time two trunks, two hooting owls, and two extra people were loaded into the car, Harry was wondering why they did this every year and didn't just Floo to the Leaky Cauldron or the Ministry and hail taxis from there. Or, better yet, he could just shrink the trunk, take Lily by Side-Along to the gates of Hogwarts and forego the whole fucking King's Cross thing in the first place. But he knew why he did this; it was a tradition that virtually all wizarding children experienced and he didn't want his daughter to be the exception.

Apart from a small moment when they were nearly rear-ended in the Hindhead Tunnel by an impatient boy-racer in a Z3, resulting in Draco sending a small and illegal Stinging Hex at the other driver, the journey to London was without incident and they arrived at King's Cross at quarter to eleven. The adults quickly unloaded the trunks from the car onto trolleys that Teddy and Lily had found, and they entered the station in good time.

They passed through the magical barrier easily, and Harry felt the familiar wave of nostalgia as he saw the Hogwarts Express, the comforting smell of the billowing steam immediately transporting him back twenty-two years to the day when he first journeyed to school and met Ron and Hermione as a tiny and scrawny eleven-year-old boy.

"Teddy!"

Harry turned as Victoire all but launched herself at Teddy, and rolled his eyes. The two had seen each other less than a day ago. His eyes then switched to Lily, who had given the pair a filthy glance but nothing more. Indeed, her eyes were now fixed on a tall boy with copper hair, whom Harry had a strong suspicion was this Wayne Brixey person. Teenagers and their fickle hormones. At Lily's age, Harry had fancied Cho Chang. The memory still made him cringe. He waved quickly at Bill and Fleur.

A guard's whistle blew, and Harry helped Draco load Lily's trunk onto the train, and then helped Andromeda with Teddy's, before saying goodbye to Teddy as he went to find his friends. He looked towards the barrier then, where Ginny, Neville, and the twins were sprinting towards the train looking stressed.

"Got lost," Neville panted, hands on his thighs as he gasped for breath. "I've only done the journey with Gran, and we used to Floo half the way. I've never driven up from Devon before."

At two minutes to eleven, and with his stomach in knots, Harry pulled Lily to him and kissed the top of her head, telling her to have a wonderful term, to behave herself, and that four months wasn't that long a period of time- more to reassure himself, he suspected, than his daughter. He reluctantly let go as Draco repeated Harry's actions, hugging her tightly and offering more words of advice and comfort, and then she was stepping onto the train, heading towards the compartment that Harry could see contained the Slytherin fourth-year girls.

"I'll miss you, Lily," he called, as the guard closed the door and the Express whistled and let out another gush of steam. "Write soon."

"I will! I love you both!" Lily called, as the pistons of the train began to fire and the coupling rods began to turn, and the Express made its way out of King's Cross station, taking Lily out of their lives for a few months with it. Harry never had got used to this part. He stared at the train until he could no longer see anything except empty track, then closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.

As a boy, when he was leaving for Hogwarts, he'd always thought that the parents always looked as excited as the children did at King's Cross. He'd never given a second thought to how their departure affected the parents. All he remembered were smiling faces waving them off. Now, as a parent himself, he realised what an act that had been; as soon as the scarlet engine was no longer visible, all around him smiles slipped and were replaced with sad or worried expressions. Some parents even cried. Harry noticed that Ginny was buried in Neville's arms, her shoulders shaking slightly, as Neville stoked her hair and whispered words of comfort into her ear, looking very upset himself.

"Let's go," Draco said quietly, taking Harry's hand. He looked pretty much how Harry felt, and Harry wondered if he was the same shade of almost-grey that Draco had turned. "Come on." They crossed back through the magical barrier and made their way to the car-park. Andromeda was staying in London shopping for the day, and was going to Floo home from the Leaky Cauldron later, so it was just them on the drive back. Harry switched the engine on, put the car into gear, and pulled out of the station. He and Draco hadn't spoken since they'd left Platform Nine and Three-quarters.

"Do you fancy stopping for lunch?" Draco asked him, as they turned onto the M25. Harry shook his head.

"I just want to get home," he replied. He pressed down on the accelerator, and watched the speedometer tick straight past seventy, but still he went faster.

"Slow down," Draco told him once the dial reached ninety miles an hour. "You're going too fast."

"Do you want to fucking drive?" Harry snapped, instantly regretting it. He was in the wrong, he knew that, and taking his mood out on Draco was out of order. Draco was hurting just as he was, and Harry was just making it worse. He eased off the accelerator and watched the speedometer needle drop back to seventy. "Sorry."

Eventually they pulled off the motorway and made their way through Petersfield. Harry parked the car outside their house, then followed Draco inside. The house was silent and spotless. No loud, obnoxious Muggle pop music, no dirty bowl in the sink with cereal remains left inside, or overflowing laundry basket in the utility room. No carton of orange juice left on the kitchen table festering in the late summer heat. Harry hated it.

"I'm going to my office," he said. "I've got paperwork to do, and I'm back at work tomorrow." He kissed Draco swiftly on the cheek, headed inside, and closed the door.

* * *

Harry rose early the following morning, before the alarm, with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He hadn't slept well the previous night again, thinking about Lily and worrying about his return to work (as people tend to do after a period away). He climbed out of bed, grabbed the Auror robes he'd placed over the back of a chair the night before, and crept out of the bedroom, choosing to use the main bathroom rather than the en-suite for his toilette that morning. By the time he heard the alarm go off upstairs, at seven, he was showered, dressed, and eating a slice of toast which felt like cardboard in his mouth. Five minutes later, Draco appeared at the door dressed in a silk robe, still looking sleepy. Harry threw a teabag into a mug and poured on boiling water, before pushing it towards Draco.

"Thanks," Draco muttered, clearly still half asleep. Harry sipped his own mug of tea absently, his mind on the day ahead. He had a staff meeting to conduct, then read through schedule for Wyatt's trial which was in three days' time, and then…

"…Harry?"

"Sorry, Draco, miles away," Harry said.

"Are you OK?" Draco asked. "You seem very distant this morning."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said, forcing a smile. He drained the dregs of his tea. "Just don't want to go back to work, that's all." He checked the kitchen clock. It was still early but he had a lot to do, and figured the quicker he got on with it, the quicker he'd be finished. "I'm off. See you later." With that, he turned on the spot and Disapparated.

To his relief, the morning passed quickly as he was extremely busy. Auror Matthews had been standing in for him, and she'd done a brilliant job. Her handover took nearly three hours, and by the time Harry had overseen the recruits' Advanced Shield Charm training, it was lunchtime.

He ate in the Ministry's canteen with a few of the trainees, then returned to his office for the afternoon. It didn't pass as quickly as the morning had. After he dispatched three Aurors to Stonehenge, along with a team of Obliviators, after a suspected Dark artefact had cursed four Muggles, he settled down to read the details for Wyatt's trial. However, it was incredibly dull, and he found his mind kept wandering off on its own. Thoughts turned, naturally, to Lily. He wondered how she was getting on, and how her first day of lessons was going. He was just going to give up reading the document as a bad job and go home with a headache, when Isabelle came in with a pile of post for him, all of which was marked 'urgent'. He groaned, but pulled the first envelope towards him, swearing under his breath.

It was gone six by the time he'd finished, and the Auror office was empty; Ron and his team were on the late shift and out in the field, and everyone else had gone home. Or almost everyone as it turned out, for Isabelle suddenly reappeared in the doorway, causing him to jump violently.

"Still here, Head Auror Potter?" she asked.

"Yeah, but I'm leaving now. See you tomorrow, Isabelle," Harry replied, waving his wand and tidying his desk.

"Are you OK, Head Auror Potter? You don't look well," Isabelle said.

"I'm fine, thank you," Harry said. "I'm just missing my daughter, that's all."

"Oh, you poor thing," Isabelle cooed then, to Harry's absolute shock, she pulled him into a hug.

"Er, Isabelle, what are you doing?" he stammered, trying his best to push her away without accidentally putting his hands on her breasts or something.

"Stop trying to fight this magnetism between us," Isabelle whispered into his ear. "I know you want me just as much as I want you." And then she kissed him.

Harry roughly pushed her away instantly, not caring which part of her anatomy he touched this time. This was not- _not_ \- happening to him again, for the second time in a month. It just wasn't.

"Isabelle," he said quietly, "go home. Take the rest of the week off, and when you return on Monday I expect nothing but professionalism from you, do you understand?"

"I can't do that I'm afraid, Head Auror Potter," Isabelle said. "I'm in love with you, and you are with me, and you need to stop trying to resist me."

Harry gaped at her. When had he ever given her the impression that he even particularly _liked_ the woman, let alone felt anything stronger for her?

"I'm sorry if I ever gave you the idea I felt more for you than as a colleague," he said, knowing full damn well that any sane person would know he _hadn't_ , but when had Isabelle ever been sane? "But I'm very much in love with my partner and I'd never consider adultery. Good evening, Isabelle."

"And you're happy, are you? When Draco Malfoy cannot even satisfy your basic needs in a relationship? All these months without sex, and you still claim that he's the one you want to be with?" shrieked Isabelle.

"There's a lot more between us than just sex, like… hang on, how the _fuck_ do you know about that?" Harry said, incredulous.

"Oh, Head Auror Potter, you're a wonderful head of department, and a charming, beautiful and witty man, but sometimes you really can be quite dense," Isabelle replied. She pulled further away from Harry then, and, to his horror, he realised she'd drawn his wand from the pocket of his robes, and was now pointing it directly at him. "So very dense. _Stupefy!_ "

* * *

Draco was in a foul mood. He'd been upset by Harry's abrupt exit that morning, he was missing Lily, and at work he'd spilt corrosive Runespoor venom onto his bare hand, burning a hole straight through it, which resulted in him cauterising the flesh and having to seek medical treatment on the wards. Then he'd choked on a grape at lunchtime and had nearly passed out by the time his colleague noticed and yelled a panicked, " _Anapneo_!" at him, causing the grape to dislodge from his throat and shoot across the room, whilst Draco gasped for breath. Then, just as he was leaving for the day, a small child had thrown up green bile all over his robes in the lift as he was heading for the Floo. So, all in all, he was already having an entirely shit day by the time he arrived home and found the house completely empty.

"Harry?" he called, but received no answer. It wasn't unusual for Harry to have to work late, but it was unusual for him to not even let Draco know. Draco's instinct prickled uneasily as he peeled off his bile-stained clothing and jumped in the shower. By the time he'd shut off the water, dried himself roughly with a towel, and redressed in clean clothes, it was beginning to get dark. Draco frowned.

 _Tap tap tap_!

Draco jumped as the sound filled the otherwise silent house, and turned to the window. There was an owl waiting to be let in; an owl that Draco recognised as Harry's personal owl for Ministry correspondence. It had a letter in its beak. Relief flooded Draco as he opened the window and let the owl in. He retrieved the letter from the bird's leg, and it immediately took flight back out of the window. The letter was obviously from Harry apologising for having to work late. He tore it open and began to read.

A minute later, trembling all over, he choked back a sob as he turned on the spot and Disapparated.

* * *

Harry let out a small moan of pain as he came to. His head hurt. He was also really uncomfortable- why was he sitting on the floor?

"I see you're awake, Head Auror Potter," came Isabelle's voice, and suddenly Harry remembered exactly what had happened, in hideous clarity. He tried to move, but realised he was completely incarcerated in ropes. He let out a sardonic laugh; Tom Riddle, the most evil Dark wizard who had ever lived, couldn't finish him off with not one, but two Killing Curses, yet Isabelle, his timid, meek, quirky and apparently bat-shit crazy secretary who lived with a bunch of cats was going to. How utterly humiliating.

Isabelle came into view then, and Harry's stomach lurched. She was dressed only in her underwear- a grey bra and knickers set, both of which were too baggy for her skinny frame, and showed off her abundance of body hair: from her armpits to her pubic area to her legs, she had tufts of coarse, dark hair poking out from the material. Harry closed his eyes quickly before the image to burn itself onto his retinas.

"It's been four months, Harry," Isabelle said. "I've waited very patiently for you, but I will not wait any longer. It's been far too long, and I _will_ have you tonight." She leant in, clearly intending to kiss Harry, who spat in her face with as much force as he could muster.

"What did you do to me, you psychotic bitch?" he yelled, pulling at the restraints. Isabelle just laughed as she wiped spit from her cheek.

"You deserve someone much better than that horrible man," she said. "And thanks to me, you're going to get it."

This time when she leant in to press her mouth against Harry's, he couldn't pull away.

* * *

Draco arrived outside Hermione and Ron's cottage in Ottery St Catchpole and immediately began pounding the door. Eventually Hermione opened it, looking irritated.

"Shh! The kids have just gone to bed!" she snapped. Then, seeing Draco's expression, ushered him inside, much as she had done to Harry a few months previously. Wordlessly, Draco handed her the letter, and Hermione began to read.

"Well, surely you don't think it's actually from Harry, do you?" she said, when she'd finished.

"Hermione, it's in his writing," Draco replied.

"And can you not think of a single spell that can emulate another's handwriting?"

"I… oh fuck," Draco said. He put his hands over his eyes. "I don't know."

"Well, what does it mean here, about 'a proper relationship'?" Hermione asked.

"Weasley didn't tell you?" Draco said. Hermione shook her head. "Well, it all started around the fifteenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts…"

He finished his story and looked at Hermione. She was biting her lip.

"I'm positive that this wasn't written by Harry," she said. "Think about it. When has Harry ever just walked away from a situation? Do you seriously think he'd just walk out without a goodbye to Lily, or me and Ron? And leave you a letter, of all things? Does that sound like Harry to you? I'm certain this is the Copy Cat Charm. He just wouldn't behave like this, Draco."

"Then what the fuck has happened to him?" Draco shouted, alarmed now. If Harry had written it and left him, at least he was safe. But if someone had written this, wanting Draco to believe Harry had left him… Harry was Head Auror. Even with the Death Eaters long gone, he still had a lot of enemies. Did someone want him hurt? Had he been captured or something?

"Is he in danger?" His voice was trembling now.

"I don't know. But I think this letter pretending to be written by him and his sexual dysfunction are connected," Hermione said. "Honestly, I know I'm a woman, so he probably didn't want to talk to me about this, but I could have told you what is wrong with him, if he'd just confided in me. He's been cursed with the Castitudo Curse."

"But when he was in hospital recently, the Healers said there were no spells on him," Draco said. He was beginning to panic now. Where the fuck was Harry?

"Yes, well, if you'd both listened to Professor Binns in History of Magic instead of falling asleep, you'd know what it was, and why it didn't show up," Hermione said, in the same voice she'd adopted over the summer, when she was teaching Lily. It was her lecturing voice. "The Castitudo Curse is archaic magic, last used about two hundred years ago, and is now illegal. It was performed when arranged marriages were common, in order to force one of the partners to fall in love with the other, if they were reluctant. It was most commonly used in pure-blood families where the parents were forcing their homosexual son or daughter to marry someone of the opposite sex. It worked on both the mind and the body, meaning the subject fell madly in love with their intended, and was incapable of having sexual relations with any other person but them. The spell even prevents masturbation. It explains exactly why Harry cannot, ah, perform."

"But why didn't this show up on his tests recently? And, hang on, Harry's been forced to be _in love_ with someone else? And he'd be able to have sex with them, but not me?!" Draco was close to hysteria now.

"Calm down, Draco. And, no, I don't so, despite someone's best efforts. Harry is very strong-willed, you know. But to answer your question, the curse wouldn't have shown up, as it's not performed on him, as such, but on a series of objects belonging to him. It's a ritual that has to be performed at each full moon in order to keep it in place. It gets stronger each time it's performed, and can only be broken by the caster, or by the ritual not being performed on the full moon. The curse is placed on his personal items, not his person. Almost like a voodoo doll, in a manner of speaking. The items charge Harry's spirit, and the curse manipulates it."

Draco remembered Harry being very upset when his favourite cufflinks- a gift from Lily one Christmas- had gone missing back in March, after he'd worn them to work when he was giving evidence at the Wizengamot. He'd also lost several other small, less sentimental, items- a handkerchief, a comb he'd kept in his drawer for tidying himself up just before interviewing detainees, and a spare belt that he kept looped over a hat stand. The one thing they all had in common was they'd all gone missing from his private office at work; an office to which very few people had access.

And the owl. It had been Harry's own owl that delivered the letter this evening. That meant the only person who could have sent it was Harry himself, or someone with access to it…

"He's at the fucking Ministry!" Draco yelled. "It's that maniac secretary of his!" Hermione's eyes widened.

"Go!" she said. "I'll send a Patronus to Ron and get him to come, and Molly will come over and sit with the children. I'll meet you there in about five minutes."

Draco didn't need to be told twice. With a last look at Hermione, to whom he was grateful beyond words at the moment (how had he ever once called her a 'filthy Mudblood'? Merlin, he had been vile when he was a child), he disappeared with a loud pop, arriving messily in the Atrium of the Ministry.

* * *

Harry clamped his lips together tightly and turned his head to the side, preventing Isabelle from reaching his mouth as she tried to kiss him. Isabelle gave a huge growl of frustration.

"If this resistance is because of Draco Malfoy, don't worry. I wrote him a letter, explaining you were no longer in love with him. You can thank me later, after we've made love."

"Fuck you," Harry said. "If you were the last person on Earth I still wouldn't want you." Isabelle looked angry then.

"Why are you fighting me?" she shouted. "I _know_ you want me. I performed the spell myself!"

"So that's how you did this, is it? A spell? Well, guess what? I feel nothing for you beyond disgust and loathing, you stupid cow," Harry snapped. "What will it take to get that through your thick skull? Now, get. Off. Me."

To his surprise, Isabelle did take a step back then, and looked at him in shock.

"I don't understand," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "That spell was meant to make you fall in love with me."

"I've been able to resist the Imperius Curse since I was fourteen. Voldemort himself couldn't keep me under it," Harry retorted angrily. "If I can beat him, I can sure as hell resist whatever shitty little curse you've put on me. You may have control over my body, but my mind belongs to me. And no one except me controls that."

"You're really not in love with me?" Isabelle's voice was full of hurt now, and a fat tear rolled down her bony cheek. Harry found he couldn't care less.

"Not at all. Your vicious little plan has completely failed," he said. Isabelle stopped for a moment, and seemed to be considering Harry's words. Then a small smile filtered across her face.

"Not completely failed," she said. "I still control your body." Then she leant forwards and began to unfasten Harry's fly.

"Get your disgusting fucking hands off him," a voice suddenly called out, and Harry could have wept from relief.

"Draco," he said. "Oh, thank Merlin." But Draco wasn't looking at him. He was staring at Isabelle, his wand tightly held in his hand, and Harry had never, in the almost fifteen years they had been a couple, seen him look so utterly livid as he did in that moment.

" _Expelliarmus_!" he called, and Harry's wand flew out of Isabelle's hand and into Draco's outstretched one.

"You will not touch Harry Potter," Draco said, pocketing Harry's wand in that icily-calm voice that Harry knew spelt danger. "You will not dare to defile him with your filth. Now step aside."

Isabelle squeaked and stared between Harry and Draco with her huge eyes. Harry was ludicrously reminded of a busy baby- and one that had just been caught in the headlights of a speeding car.

"M-m-m-mister M-m-m-malfoy!" she shrieked. "I m-m-meant H-h-harry no harm!"

"Do not call him 'Harry', you do not have that right," Draco snapped. Then, without taking his eyes off Isabelle once, he waved his wand and cast _Finite_ on Harry, removing the bonds that had secured Harry tightly.

"Now take the spell off him," Draco commanded, and Harry didn't know how Draco knew about it, but he obviously did. And he was obviously irate about it. Isabelle appeared frozen, as the realisation that her plan had spectacularly failed seemed to crash around her. "I said take it off!" Draco yelled, clearly beyond angry now when she hesitated a second too long in obeying his command. Then Draco did something that Harry never thought he'd see him do. He unbuttoned his left sleeve and rolled it up to his elbow, baring his forearm to her.

The Dark Mark had faded significantly over the years, but its outline was still visible, particularly if one knew it was there. And Isabelle clearly did. She began to shake violently all over as she stared at it.

"Don't hurt me, please," she sobbed. "I'll take it off, I swear."

"That's all I ask," Draco said, not once lowering his wand.

Just then, Harry heard footsteps and turned to see Hermione, puffing and slightly out of breath, arriving in his office. He didn't even question why she was there; Draco had obviously contacted her.

"Oh, my," she said. "Harry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Hermione," he replied. "Draco's a tad pissed off though, I think."

"Fucking take off the spell!" Draco roared to Isabelle then, as if to prove Harry's point.

"The- the objects. I n-n-n-need to destroy those. They're in my drawer. The spell worked better if the objects remained in close proximity to the target," Isabelle said. Then she exited Harry's office, Draco following her, and returned seconds later with the objects, which were inside an ordinary cardboard shoebox.

"Destroy them. Now," Draco said, and Isabelle drew her wand. With almost convulsing hands, she pointed the wand at the shoebox, and uttered, " _Confringo_."

The shoebox exploded with a huge bang, and Harry winced as it caught fire; the flames rose several feet into the air. One they'd died down, he could see that all that remained was a small pile of ash, a melted lump of plastic that had once been his comb, and two charred squares of metal that had been his beloved cufflinks.

"Now what?" Harry asked.

"I need to Vanish these," Isabelle said. "The Blasting Curse destroyed the connection, but the objects need to cease to exist." She waved her wand again. " _Evanesco_." Everything Vanished.

Ron and another Auror arrived then, both red-faced and wands out, their Auror robes billowing behind them.

"What's going on?" Ron said, and Hermione began to fill him in, whilst his partner confiscated Isabelle's wand and bound her wrists together in magical rope. Harry was barely listening to her though; he only had eyes for Draco. Draco, who was panting and sweaty, his normally immaculate hair tousled and his cheeks pink. His eyes were still sparkling from his recent anger and worry, and his posture was one of absolute dominance, and was staring at him with a look of fierce, possessive love, that clearly said, 'mine'. Harry thought that, in that moment, Draco looked absolutely beautiful. He thought how Draco had been there for him when he needed him most, when he'd been at his most vulnerable, and how genuine and raw Draco's emotions had been. It was all suddenly so clear to Harry; they shared a love that couldn't be ruined by spells or curses, or drunken kisses. And Harry just knew, in that second, that they were going to be just fine. He also became aware of something else rather wonderful; something so unfamiliar yet delightfully familiar all at the same time. _He was rock hard_.

Grinning like the cat that got the cream, he called out to Ron and the Auror, "Can you two deal with Miss Honeycutt please? Arrest her and put her in the cells for the night. We'll interview her in the morning." He then walked over to Draco and pulled him into a hug, clinging to him. And then, gently, he leant forwards and pressed his groin against Draco's thigh.

Draco's eyes widened, and a huge smile fell across his face. Then, so suddenly that Harry stumbled forwards, Draco pulled him by the hand roughly towards the door.

"We're off, Weasley. Sorry to leave you to deal with this, but something's come up," Draco said, deadpanned; hunger having replaced the fury that had been in his eyes.

"Oh, um, right," Ron said, rather bemused. "I'll just sort this out then, shall I, Harry?"

"Thanks, Ron!" Harry called. "I'll see you later! You too, Hermione!" Then he stopped, turned round, and looked Isabelle in the eyes. "Oh, and by the way, you're sacked."

Draco's laughter echoed all through the corridor until they reached the Atrium where Harry took Draco by the arm and Apparated them home.

* * *

In his desperation to get home, he misjudged the jump by about thirty feet, and ended up in his study.

"Crap. I was going for the bedroom," he said. "I just thought- Mmm!" For Draco had cut him off mid-sentence with a fiery kiss, which was all tongues and teeth and saliva, and desire- pure, unadulterated, beautiful desire- surged through Harry, making him feel giddy. He let out a moan, and Draco moaned into his mouth in response, as has fingers began fumbling with the buttons on Harry's robes, and Harry realised that there was no way they were going to be making it to the bedroom.

 _This real, this is actually happening,_ he thought to himself, as physical arousal pulsed through him, leaving him desperate for contact.

"This is actually happening," Draco echoed, as if reading Harry's mind. "I…you… oh fuck, Harry."

By now Draco had got Harry's robes off, and they were pooled messily around his feet. Harry had unbuttoned Draco's shirt, and Draco slithered out of it whilst turning his attention to Harry's fly. He slid the button out of its button hole and pulled down the zip. Then he tugged down the trousers fully, taking Harry's underwear with them for good measure.

"Hello. I've missed you," Draco teased as he stared downwards at Harry's erection. Then he fell to his knees and licked a stripe from base to tip, swirling his tongue around the head, and Harry's legs buckled.

It was super-intense; maybe it always was, and he'd just forgotten, or- as Harry suspected- maybe it was due to the fact he had gone without for so long, but the one simple touch was a shock that sent spine-tingling sensation coursing through every capillary in his body and stole the breath from his lungs. And after over four months of just wishing he could come, now he was terrified he was going to all too soon. Because, despite feeling as desperate as he felt at the moment, he wanted this to be incredible, and it wouldn't be if he blew his load from half a blowjob.

"Draco, not too much too soon," Harry said, and Draco seemed to know exactly what Harry meant. He stood up with a grin and shed the rest of his clothes in record time, and soon they were both naked, Harry was pushed up against the office door with Draco's erection pressing gloriously into his hip, and they were snogging like a pair of randy teenagers.

"Missed you. Missed you so much," Draco murmured against Harry's lips, before Harry captured his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled on it, receiving an appreciated humming noise from Draco for his efforts.

"Fuck, Draco, I need you," Harry replied, as he reached between Draco's legs and began to stroke him leisurely, savouring the feel of the hard, silky flesh in his hand, and wanting nothing more than to bring them both to climax now.

Draco was still pressed flush against him, and Harry's back was pressed against the wall. It was wonderful, but it wasn't enough. He gave a small pushed forwards and, not once breaking the new kiss that Draco had begun, began to walk him backwards, until the edge of Harry's desk hit the back of his lover's thighs. For once, it was tidy and clutter-free, which was perfect, as Draco had clearly taken the hint and lay down on it. Harry quickly scrambled on top, which brought their groins together. He couldn't resist sliding his erection over Draco's, the slickness that had formed on both of them adding delicious lubrication to the thrusts.

As white-hot pleasure began to surge and peak, Harry forced himself to stop moving, lest it all be over within a minute. His body screamed in protest as he pulled away, moving off Draco and crossing the room back to his robes, where he picked up his wand. He cast a familiar charm- one that he hadn't used in so long now- which coated his fingers in lubricant, and then moaned as Draco spread himself suggestively for him.

"You're doing all the work," Draco said lazily. "I'm not letting that-" he pointed at Harry's erection, which was bobbing happily close to his stomach- "go to waste. Come on, Potter."

Harry chuckled, more than happy to oblige his demanding lover. He climbed back onto the desk next to Draco, and guided his slick fingers lower, giving a teasing stroke to Draco's erection, before continuing south, over the rock-hard perineum and between Draco's buttocks, where he circled the flesh gently before breaching slowly with one finger.

It was marvellous. It had clearly been a while, as Draco was incredibly tight, and Harry knew this part was going to take longer than he was used to. That was fine with him- every touch, kiss and caress of Draco's skin felt like heaven.

"Gonna take a while," Draco said. "Sorry."

"Not a problem," Harry said, as he crooked his finger, brushing against Draco's prostate and causing him to clench further around Harry's finger. Harry tried to insert another finger, but felt some resistance, and Draco looked slightly uncomfortable. He soothed him with a kiss to the mouth, then the jaw, neck and chest, and continued lower, across Draco's naval, and- pausing only to momentarily tease Draco by taking him into his mouth- journeyed even lower, until his mouth was level with his fingers. He withdrew the digits and replaced them with his tongue.

"Fuckfuckfuck," Draco hissed, his hands balled into fists attempting to grab bed sheets that weren't there. This wasn't something he and Draco had done that often over the years; Draco had always felt too self-conscious. Harry didn't think that was going to be a problem tonight, however, as he swiped his tongue in a circular motion around the perimeter and pressed slightly inside, causing Draco to tremble. He licked upwards to Draco's perineum then as he re-inserted two fingers- a much more comfortable fit now Harry's tongue had been at work- and began to massage that sweet spot inside once more, before taking Draco's sac into his mouth. He sucked lightly, then hummed, knowing the gentle vibrations from his voice would be driving his love insane.

"If you don't stop that now, I'm going to come," Draco said, and the hitch in Draco's breathing told Harry that it wasn't an empty threat. He released Draco from his mouth and removed his fingers, before reaching for his wand once more and repeating the earlier spell. He smeared the lubricant on himself and, trembling slightly himself from nerves and anticipation, he positioned himself at Draco's entrance.

"Mine," Harry said, and pushed in.

Merlin, how had he ever managed to exist without this for so long? The hot, slick tightness that gripped him nearly sent him spiralling over the edge like some nervous virgin. He forced himself to remain still whilst the threat of imminent orgasm subsided slightly, but he still didn't think this was going to take very long, which was understandable in the circumstances, Harry thought. He was grateful now that he'd brought Draco so close during foreplay.

He opened his mouth to say something to Draco- how much he loved him, how wonderful this felt, anything really; no words would come, however. Draco's legs locked around his waist then and Harry gazed into Draco's eyes as he pulled out then slammed home. The eyes were the soft pewter Harry adored, pupils huge with lust, and as Harry grazed his prostate on the thrust back in, pink eyelids with perfect, long eyelashes fluttered closed over them, and Draco gasped.

"Open your eyes, Draco," Harry said, and Draco did, fixing the irises directly on Harry. And as soon as he did so, Harry was lost. He didn't break eye contact at all as he slammed in to Draco feeling the crescendo building far too quickly, but allowing it, because he was inside the man he loved, and who loved him, and nothing was ever going to keep them apart. His cock throbbed for release, and his breath was coming in short pants now, whilst Draco was writhing and gasping beneath him, a deep pink flush spreading from his cheeks down his neck and mingling with beads of sweat, and it was too much. His rhythm faltered and his breath caught; he managed to thrust in one final time before his climax tore through him.

"Oh god, you're coming, I can feel you coming," Draco rasped, but Harry's ears didn't hear the words; blood was rushing through them leaving behind a thick ringing as wave upon glorious wave of pleasure crashed over him and he cried out, his nails dug deeply into either side of Draco's hip, and then, after what felt like an eternity, he collapsed onto Draco's torso, mouth opened as his oxygen-starved brain forced him to take huge breaths. The part of his mind that was still lucid reached between his and Draco's bodies and took hold of Draco's straining erection. He stoked it quickly and with determination, and it was less than a minute later that Draco stiffened and came into his fist.

The pair laid together afterwards, Harry still atop of Draco, as they tried to catch their breaths, and simply stared at each other.

"Harry," Draco said finally, after a few minutes, "this is lovely, but could we take it to another room? Your desk is starting to really cut into my thighs now."

Harry grinned and, for once grateful that Lily was at school so the evidence of their debauchery didn't need to be immediately cleaned up (although the table would need a good scrub with hot, soapy water, he thought with amusement), he Apparated them both to the bedroom.

* * *

"We should go away this weekend," Draco said the following morning, as the pair laid together sweaty, naked, and incredibly satisfied. Neither had gotten much sleep the previous night; pausing only to grab a quick bite to eat around midnight, they'd made love repeatedly until the first shimmers of early dawn light began to filter in through the window, at which point they'd fallen into an exhausted heap, curled tightly together.

"Sounds lovely. Where did you have in mind?" Harry said.

"Leave it to me," Draco said, with a huge grin. He suddenly looked serious. "You know- when I got that letter yesterday… Harry, never do that to me, OK? You have no idea how terrified I was."

"I never would. You must know that," Harry replied. "You're my world."

The resulting smile that Draco gave him made his heart flip pleasantly, and it wasn't long before they picked up exactly where they'd left off only a few hours previously.

* * *

_Sunday 8_ _th_ _September 2013, Olde Moat House Hotel, Rye_

_Dear Lily,_

_Thank you for your letter letting us know how your first week back went, and I'm glad that you've settled back in and are doing well. Firstly, yes, I'm fine, but thank you for asking. I had hoped to keep that particular story out of the Press; it's rather embarrassing when the Head of the Auror Office is beaten by an insane middle-aged woman with a cat obsession, after all, but alas, it was not to be. Isabelle Honeycutt has been carted off to the Janus Thickey ward, where she is going to be enjoying a very long stay._

_I'm sure Wayne Brixey didn't ask you out just to get tips on how to improve his Seeker skills. He asked you out because you're a beautiful, funny, intelligent (if somewhat stroppy at times) young woman. He clearly just has very good taste. Besides, he's a Ravenclaw. He's intelligent enough to know that if he ever deliberately hurts you, you have two fathers who will be having serious words with him. One of whom defeated Voldemort, remember? Although how much of a threat this is still, after this week's news story about me, I don't know._

_Your father has taken me to a beautiful little hotel in Rye for the weekend. We came here once before, when you were only a few months old, and it has hardly changed. I think this is the most relaxed I've felt in years._

_You know before, when I said I was fine? Scrap that. I'm not fine. I'm so much more than that. I have you, and I have your father, and I am thankful for you both every single day of my life. So, no, I'm not just 'fine'. I'm the happiest man on the planet._

_With all my love, always,_

_Dad._


End file.
